The truth you find won't take you far
by PseudAnon
Summary: "It's time to put these children in their place, once and for all." In which the league was not limited by whoever was pulling their strings, and the cure took a little too long to work. AU of Auld Acquaintance. Rated for major character death and violent imagery.
1. I know everything will end

_I Know Everything Will End_

**WARNINGS: Major Character Death, Graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore, murder, heavy angst, child death**

**Please check the bottom A/N for information on the story that you might not understand or might have missed. Hopefully it should clear any confusion up for you. It's at the bottom to avoid spoilers, I guess? Also, I apologise if I got any details of what happened in the fights on the watchtower wrong, I tried really hard to get it right, but I'm still not sure if I got it completely. I don't really know all that much about Rocket's powers either, so if I got anything wrong, I apologise for that as well. I've never written action before, so some of it might be timed wrong or written badly. I don't think most of the scenarios here last 5-10 minutes, but oh well.**

**Title of the story from 'I Can't Help You' by Last Dinosaurs**

**Title of this chapter from 'Stream' by Last Dinosaurs**

* * *

_"I'm amazed we're still alive..." "It's 'cause they're being controlled. They're limited by whoever's pulling their strings; The very thing putting us in danger- it's the only thing giving us a chance!"_

_"The children have clearly reverse-engineered a starro-tech cure and vaccine; so, there's no point in taking them alive."_

* * *

The first thing Batman felt as he came to was a dull, aching pound running through his head. He did a lightning fast assessment of his body, probing for injuries. He quickly found that his jaw and nose ached, possibly broken. His ribs and stomach also ached, but his armour had held true and as such, he could not feel anything beyond maybe a bruise or two that would form there. He felt numerous smaller scratches and scrapes along various parts of his face and body, but nothing serious.

Screwing his eyes even more tightly shut, he suppressed a groan of discomfort and focused on relaxing his body, getting a feel of his surroundings, wherever he was. Oddly enough, he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage and the rushed feeling of adrenaline wearing off- meaning he was recently in a stressful situation. He could still feel his hands shaking.

The ground beneath him was hard, no sign of dirt or any loose parts. Not a bed, but not anything like a gurney or a stretcher. He was lying still on this ground, that felt distinctly more like a floor than the ground. Indoors, then. Further investigation revealed that it was fairly silent, save for a soft whirring one might hear in the background of a science lab and some soft, laboured breathing close by to him. It was only when he felt the tell-tale floaty pull of artificial gravity did Batman realise he was lying on the ground in some part of the Watchtower.

With this in mind, Batman carefully pried his eyes open just enough to see, but so much so that it would still look as if he were unconscious if anyone were to look at him. The small blessings of having white lenses in your cowl.

With this action, he deduced that he was indeed in the Watchtower, if the curtain of stars behind a thick sheet of specially enhanced glass was anything to go by. At this, Batman opened his eyes fully and sat up, placing a hand on his head as the dull pounding came back as a full-force headache. He did a quick scan of the room he was in and found Superman, knocked out, not too far from where Batman had been lying. The room was empty aside from the two heroes, and so Batman stood up and strode swiftly up to the Man of Steel to check that he was okay. It seemed that he was, but some bruises blossoming on his face meant that he had been exposed to Kryptonite, probably by whoever had rendered them unconscious. That was slightly worrying. He only knew of a few people who even had access to Kryptonite.

Standing back up from where he had been knelt by Superman's side, Batman decided it would probably be a good idea to try and contact someone, though he suspected that nobody would be available if nobody had come to their aid already. A quick tap to his com confirmed this, as the only response he got was static.

Turning around back to Superman, Batman noticed something odd out of the corner of his eye. There was a sizeable dent in the floor, and across from it, the ground had been slightly torn up, signifying something had dragged across it. Not wasting any more time, Batman followed the trail of destruction. At the end, he found a forceful hole breaking through the ground, leading directly to the floor below. Batman frowned. Something big had happened here, but his mind was enshrouded in fog and he was having trouble recalling anything that happened after the League recruitment celebration.

* * *

Batman burst into the monitor room of the Watchtower, dragging an unconscious Superman behind him. He raised his eyebrows at the sight that greeted him; a slew of Leaguers were strewn about the room in various places, some slumped against the walls, some with their heads lolling on the back of the monitor duty chairs, but all of them were unconscious. Batman's suspicion flew through the roof; it must have taken something serious to cause such a large number of Leaguers to be rendered unconscious in such a state. He figured that only he had woken up as soon as he did because he had made sure he was largely immune to every sort of sleep-inducer commonly used by criminals and villains. If it was an unconventional method of putting him out, he had extensive specialized training that allowed him to come to himself faster than the average person. The fact that he had been put to sleep at all, however, was discomforting to him, and he quickly laid Superman down next to an unconscious Plastic Man in order to get to the bottom of this sooner.

He checked all the Leaguers' pulses- all of them were alive, but their breathing was shallow, the same as Superman. Deciding to test something, he made his way back over to the Man of Steel and pulled some smelling salts out from his belt, waving them under his nose.

Superman started, but did not wake. Batman tried this with every other Leaguer, but had no luck. He placed the salts back in his belt slowly- whatever had put them to sleep had definitely not been natural. Some kind of technology, perhaps? There was only one way to find out, the reason he had come here in the first place.

Batman approached the large computer screens that connected to the many cameras in the Watchtower, currently displaying only static. It seemed that someone had disabled the security systems of the Watchtower, but Batman had installed his own security systems when he was helping to build it that were not connected to the main system. A few quick keystrokes later, and Batman was granted full view of the League's hangar. A quick sweep of the room showed nothing unusual, and so he switched quickly to the next screen. He continued this until he came to the security feed of one of the cargo holds.

Lying on the ground in uncomfortable looking positions were the Flash, Aquaman and Green Arrow, clearly unconscious in the same fashion as all the Leaguers in the monitor room. The fact that the Flash had not come to yet confirmed to Batman that they had not been drugged, as his fast metabolism would have taken care of that long before Batman could have. Just as he was about to switch screens however, something caught his eye.

Lying on the ground a short way away from the two Leaguers, Kid Flash, Aqualad and Artemis were strewn in a violent manner.

Against his better judgment, Batman's eyes widened and he felt his heart stop and his stomach go cold.

Zooming in and enhancing the quality of the feed, Batman quickly found with a horror he had never felt before that there was no way the teen heroes were alive.

Kid Flash was lying eerily still, slumped against some wooden crates. His legs were bloody and mangled, and there were two arrows sticking out of his chest in vital places, while one was stuck in deeply at the base of his throat. A very slow trickle of blood was leaking from his mouth and down his chin, catching on the arrow in his throat and dripping off the feathered end. Batman realised with a lurch of his stomach that the feathers were now a deep red colour as opposed to their regular green.

Batman smashed down any rising emotions he might have been feeling and trained his gaze on the next closest hero.

The figure next to Kid Flash was identified as Aqualad by the water-bearers lying broken in a puddle of water next to him. Aqualad was lying with his face to the floor, hands spread out in a last-minute reach for his dropped weapons. His shirt had been burnt off, revealing the skin on his back to be charred an ugly red colour, the redness spreading outward from a large, black patch right in the centre. The remains of several explosive arrows lay next to him, still smoking. His head was bent at an unnatural angle, his neck obviously having been broken.

Batman once again ignored the wave of violent nausea that momentarily passed through him, and forced his eyes to the last teen hero in the room.

Artemis was lying on her side against the outer-door, a large splatter of blood glinting against the metal slightly above where her head was. One of her arms clutched loosely at her other arm; it was mangled in the same fashion as Kid Flash's legs, rendering her unable to use her bow. Her head was leaking a suspicious looking clear fluid on the ground from underneath where it lay, ugly dark bruises mattering her forehead. Her mouth was parted, the bottom corner of her lips and face stained red from the slow stream of blood that leaked from it. Her quiver and bow lay meters away from her, her arrows scattered haphazardly over the floor.

Batman felt his heart lurch, and took a step back. The scene was by no means the goriest thing he had ever seen in his time as a vigilante, but it was perhaps the most horrifying. The three Leaguers, in comparison to the teen heroes, seemed fine. Green Arrow and Aquaman had some mildly severe looking bruises on their faces, and Flash didn't even have that.

If... If Kid Flash, Aqualad and Artemis were there, quite obviously having been murdered brutally, then where was...?

A new feeling surfaced in Batman's heart; one he had only felt a few times before in his life. A pure, cold, unrelenting terror gripped at him, and he couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he clicked off the feed to the next feed.

If those three were there, where was the rest of the Team?

Where was Dick?

Batman scanned the next screen that came up quickly, and upon finding it disturbingly clear after the carnage of the previous screen, switched screens again. His heart sped up as he was greeted with the sight of Wonder Woman, lying unconscious on her back, seemingly unscathed.

The teen next to her though...

Rocket lay still not too far away from the Amazonian warrior, her belt broken beside her. Not a drop of blood was on the floor, but her dark hair shined with it in the light. Her head was smashed in.

Batman quickly flipped screens again, the terror growing fiercer.

This time there was no reprieve of an empty screen beforehand, so Batman was immediately greeted with the sight of three unconscious Leaguers and one maimed teen. Captain Marvel and Doctor Fate lay slumped against a destroyed looking wall, and Icon lay across the ground, near the exit to a connecting hallway. Zatanna lay meters away from them, her face purple, eyes rolled back and foam leaking from her mouth. Closer inspection revealed blackened, swollen finger-shaped bruises blossoming around her throat, little welts of blood where fingernails had sunk in at the end of each one.

Strangled into silence and then choked to death.

Batman quickly switched screens again.

This time, there were three blank screens before he came across the next one. This one's camera lens had been cracked, a spider web blooming out from the direct centre.

Martian Manhunter was floating serenely in place, his eyes closed. He looked to be in some sort of trance, and Batman assumed it was a Martian way of healing himself.

Next to him lay some sort of white monster, a thick black liquid leaking from various places in its body. It's pupil-free red eyes were wide open, and one of its long limbs seemed to have been scorched off somehow. Various other patches of skin were burnt to a crisp, and it was curled around it's middle, where a vicious wound was leaking the tar-like, thick black stuff onto the ground. Batman numbly noted it looked like a stab wound, but there was no weapon visible anywhere around it. However, the scorched remains of fire arrows lay scattered near it. Fire arrows with distinctly red feathers. Despite this, Red Arrow was nowhere to be seen.

He had no doubt in his mind that the white creature was M'gann, if what J'onn had said about White Martians was true. He once again squashed down the bile rising in his throat.

Only Superboy and Robin were unaccounted for now, and his hand was having trouble remaining steady on the mouse.

With considerable effort, he switched screens again. He barely noticed in the background when he heard the distant groans of some Leaguers; he just kept switching screens.

_Dick... _not there.

_Dick... _not there.

_Dick... _not there.

Like a mantra in his head, he kept repeating his son's name at every new screen. His heart pounded painfully in his chest.

Where was he?

Batman didn't dare let himself hope. He felt a small hole start to claw itself at his heart.

He wasn't sure he would be able to live with himself after this, even _if _Dick was okay.

But if he wasn't...

The second last screen that came on before it looped back to the hangar was one of the wide-open terraces overlooking a large part of the Watchtower. Not too far from where he and Superman had been. Batman's head spun.

Superboy lay off to the side on his stomach, spread-eagled on the floor. His head was turned to the side, his face open in a mix of pain and shock. The veins across his body pulsed an ugly, neon green, spreading out like a spiderweb from the base of his neck where a glowing green chunk of rock was jammed. The edges where it entered his neck leaked Kryptonian blood.

He heard more groans behind him and the sounds of someone pushing themselves up when Batman saw him.

He lay on the other side of the room to Superboy, deathly still and slumped against the wall. His head rested on his shoulder, the lenses of his mask wide against some ugly purple and black bruising spreading across his face. The tough Kevlar of his uniform had been ripped to shreds, and multiple deep cuts were visible across his chest, leaking blood much too slowly. His throat was pale against some finger-shaped bruises, though not as severe as Zatanna's had been. His belt had been torn off, broken in half, its contents spilled across the floor; but that wasn't what immediately caught Batman's attention, oh no.

What caught his attention was the batarang sticking out of the centre of his son's chest, and the multiple others that were strewn around, glinting with a red sheen in the fluorescent lights of the Watchtower.

Batman's world fell out underneath him, and he began to fall into the abyss it left as he heard horrified gasps behind him and felt a hand grab his shoulder.

* * *

The Leaguers all gathered in the monitor room, a crushing silence overwhelming them. Some were sobbing quietly; some sat staring at the floor, their eyes wide. Some stared at others in pity. Black Canary was nowhere to be found.

Red Arrow clutched his head, leaning against a wall and breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Green Arrow stood near him; his face mournful. He rested a hand on his protégé's shoulder, too much in shock himself to do anything more. Nearby him, the Flash was openly sobbing into his hands and Aquaman stood stone-still, his head down.

Flash, Green Arrow, Aquaman, and all the others who had been with the _(dead) _teen heroes when they woke up were not faring well at all. The bodies of six teens lay in the next room. Only Superboy and Robin remained unmoved, as nobody had been there to bring them back.

Superman stood before the Justice League, the pitiful bunch they were. He let out a slow, heavy sigh, and then took a shaky breath.

"So…" he began gravely, glancing to a dark presence looming in the corner of the room. "...it's confirmed that none of us have any memory of what took place?"

He was greeted with silence. He glanced to Wonder Woman, who, after looking to him with heavy eyes, nodded her head in confirmation.

Superman sighed again.

"It then follows," he said, "That we need to find out."

He glanced at the disabled Red Tornado that someone had brought in and placed on a chair.

"...Red Tornado... disabled the security systems, but..." He glanced back at the silent figure in the corner again, "...Batman had backup. So," he continued, turning in his chair to face the massive computer monitor, the video feed still trained on the gruesome sight of the only two boys nobody had retrieved.

Superman cringed, and his hands started to shake.

"We need to see what happened as soon as possible," he whispered, "To make sure that the threat is truly gone, and who is responsible for..." He trailed off, his eyes staring into the middle of the floor on the screen, the two mangled bodies clear in his peripheral. He took another breath, and braced himself.

"I would please request any of you who were not present at any scene in question to leave the room while the others of us review the footage." He glanced around. "We'll... we'll make a cut version for us all to review afterwards."

The Leaguers who were being addressed nodded and got up without complaint; some sent sorrowful looks to those who remained as they went out the door. Red Arrow, however, did not budge. Superman decided to overlook this, not in the mood for an inevitable fight if he were to request for him to leave.

Those left in the room were Superman, Batman, Flash, Aquaman, Green Arrow & Red Arrow, Wonder Woman, Doctor Fate, Icon and Martian Manhunter. Superman noted that Captain Marvel was not present, but decided to overlook this too. There were just some things that 10-year-olds, even ones in the Justice League, should not be subjected to seeing.

"...T-the computers are designed to filter out any inactivity from security footage, s-so..." he stammered to his reduced audience, the tremor in his hands traveling to his voice. "We'll g-get a complete play-by-play of what exactly h-happened. The security cameras will show us all the action that took place, but w-we'll be able to switch its focus and rewind or fast-forward it at any tttt-time."

Superman closed his eyes and let out a devastated sigh, before pressing a few keys and sitting back in his chair.

The screen buzzed with static.

* * *

**FOUR HOURS EARLIER**

Young Justice ran out of the Zeta-tubes connecting to the Watchtower on high alert, dragging a disabled Red Tornado behind them. He was hurriedly placed in a nearby open broom closet; the cure they had given him would not work for another hour or two at least, and nobody wanted to be responsible for watching over him. Robin glanced around, then signalled for Miss Martian to link them up.

_"Everybody online?" _She asked, drawing up her hood and camouflaging herself.

A chorus of 'Yes' and 'Yep's echoed through the eight teens' heads. The Team had only just escaped the cave in the Bio-ship before Captain Marvel, Icon and Doctor Fate had seen them. Aqualad figured that they had a few minutes at most before they finished searching every inch of the cave and came back here.

Robin took over, him being the most technologically knowledgeable and aware of the most facts to do with the cure-o-tech that their team of scientists had hastily thrown together.

_"Alright team," _he began, _"As we saw with Black Canary and Red Tornado, the cure-o-tech doesn't take effect immediately, so we had to leave her in the bio-ship and bring him over here."_

Robin glanced at the open broom closet.

_"I would estimate there would be something close to a 5-10-minute delay before the chip we give fully integrates into the recipient's nervous system- that means we have to get in, give the cure, and get out. They'll still be coherent and active until that 5-10-minute window is done, when they'll go unconscious and the cure will start to take effect. Even though Serling and the others didn't have enough time to make the cure immediately active, I did ask her to program a beacon of sorts; as soon as anybody gets the chip put into them, it overrides commands from the starro-tech and they'll be forced to go to the monitor room. The monitor room is the room in the watchtower with the strongest radio and electric signals being sent to and from it, so they're attracted to that. However..." _Here, Robin took in a shaky breath, despite speaking mentally. "_I'm not sure if the programming telling them to go to the monitor room is strong enough to override any commands to pursue a target. That means we have to get away as fast as possible. I don't know about you guys," _He glanced at his team, who were all watching him with apt attention. _"But I REALLY don't want to run away from the Justice League for any extended period of time." _He took another deep breath. "_Any questions?"_

There were none, and Robin received several serious nods in understanding.

"_Great," _He said. "_This is primarily a stealth mission, which we quite obviously excel at. Do not engage! We need to get moving before the three of them," _He motioned to the zeta-tubes, _"Come back. Move out!"_

The Team split off into pairs; none of them were willing to go through a Watchtower crawling with infected Leaguers alone, and none of them were willing to let anyone else go alone.

* * *

_Superman and the other Leaguers watched in silence as their protégés successfully placed some sort of microchip in the necks of Plastic Man, Atom, Captain Atom and Hawkman without being seen. It was no secret that the teens had been communicating mentally, so they weren't able to get much information on what was going on through their commentary. After the chips had been planted, the Leaguers had started moving toward the monitor room, and further investigation revealed that they remained there, doing nothing, until they collapsed anywhere from five to ten minutes later. Interestingly, the cameras did not pick up any sign of Batman, Superman, Hawkwoman, Green Lantern John Stewart, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter or Black Canary. The other Leaguers were spotted in various places through the feeds, but there was no sign of those seven._

_Superman flipped the focus throughout the rooms until he came across a very interesting scene. Vandal Savage and Klarion the Witch Boy were on the rooftop of the Watchtower, Klarion floating in front of what looked like a red holo-computer control panel. Hal Jordan was also there, passively waiting off to the side. His face was blank, and he did not react to anything either of the two villains did._

_Suddenly, Klarion started and a snarl grew on his features. "_The brats are aboard! They've taken away four of my toys!" _He exclaimed._

_Superman frowned. Toys? It seemed that the League was being controlled by Klarion, then. Though why did the cure involve microchips? Perhaps the method of control also involved technology? That would explain why Klarion was using a control panel, and not doing it with his mind or through magic like he usually would._

_Vandal Savage turned around to face Klarion. "_Recall all League away missions," _He said, his face in a vicious snarl. _"It's time to put these children in their place, once and for all."

"Finally!" _Smirked Klarion, tapping some buttons on his panel._

_Superman felt the dark presence in the corner shift, and then Batman was next to him. "League away missions?" He asked gruffly, pointedly ignoring the comment about the children, but Superman could hear the man's heart going a mile a minute and felt him shaking next to him. From rage or something else, he wasn't sure._

_Vandal Savage's mouth twisted into a poisonous smirk, as a boom tube opened up behind him and Martian Manhunter, Superman, Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, John Stewart and finally Batman, flew out to stand before him. Klarion swiped a few things on his control panel, and soon, Hal Jordan joined them._

_Vandal Savage walked down the line of Leaguers, all of whom stand at apt attention._

"The children have clearly reverse-engineered a starro-tech cure and vaccine; so, there's no point in taking them alive," _He exclaimed._ _He turned to Klarion. "_Stop manual control," _He ordered, "_Let them fight to the fullest of their abilities. Your control will not allow that. You know they will continue to follow verbal commands, and that should be enough; we cannot let these children out of here while they still breathe."

_Klarion pouted childishly, but obligeed. The Leaguers lined up stand straighter, more alert. _

_Superman starts to shake at the sight of himself, and Batman smashes his fist down on the keyboard._

* * *

After she and Miss Martian had successfully cured Atom without being seen and made sure that he was headed to the monitor room, Zatanna hurried back to the zeta-tubes where they had entered to wait for her father and the other two he was with, Miss Martian close behind. She wanted to be there to make sure her father got cured...

Zatanna looked around, and upon seeing nobody but Miss Martian, allowed herself a small sigh. She... she really missed her dad. Maybe... maybe she could get the helmet off of him if she stuck around and waited until he was unconscious? She knew it was dangerous, but...

She really, really missed her dad.

Her decision made, she silently positioned herself behind a yellow storage tank while Miss Martian re-camouflaged and brought herself down right above the zeta-tubes, levitating three cure-o-tech chips. Soon enough, Aqualad and Rocket joined them, Rocket levitating above where Miss Martian was and Aqualad behind another yellow storage container. There was no time to catch their breath before the three Leaguers entered.

"_Recognised: Captain Marvel, 1-5, Icon, 2-0, Doctor Fate, 1-7,_"

Miss Martian floated stealthily down from above, quickly placing a chip onto the neck of Doctor Fate, causing him to convulse slightly then whirl around. Icon noticed this however, and was quick to melt the other two chips being held by Miss Martian's telekinesis. The blast travelled to her and smashed her into the wall behind, but she managed to retain her camouflage so she wouldn't be targeted.

While Icon was turned around, Rocket floated down behind him and placed a chip on his neck, then quickly floated back up to avoid being seen. He too convulsed a little, then upon seeing nothing except a crumbling wall and his fellow Leaguers, began walking steadily in the direction of the monitor room.

At this, Zatanna stepped out from behind her storage container, aiming her focus on Captain Marvel, who was still examining the spot Miss Martian landed.

_"Trulb tuo-" _She starts to say, but is cut off abruptly when she's slammed into by a blast from Doctor Fate. She lets out a shriek and falls to the ground, and the other two Leaguers turn around and train their gazes on her.

Taking his cue, Aqualad jumps out from behind his storage container, water-bearers turned into giant hammers and tattoos glowing. Rocket floats down from the roof as well, and both of them move quickly before the Leaguers can take action.

"_Miss Martian," _Says Aqualad, positioning his hammers to guard as Captain Marvel rushes him. "_Remain camouflaged and see if you can get a chip in the Captain while he is distracted. We will do the distracting. Rocket, Zatanna, aim to immobilise."_

All parties give their agreement, Zatanna rolling frantically on the floor to avoid more blasts from Doctor Fate.

Aqualad swings his electrified hammers out from the guard position at Captain Marvel, who takes the hit with a grunt and crashes into the wall. Icon sends a blast at Aqualad in retaliation, but Rocket quickly envelopes Icon in one of her shields and the blast rebounds, hitting him square in the chest. He hits the edge of her bubble, knocked out.

Rocket releases her bubble and flies quickly toward Zatanna and Doctor Fate, aiming a blast at the Lord of Order that sends him flying into the wall, next to Captain Marvel who was just getting up. Miss Martian, seeing her chance, flies silently above the Captain, density shifting into the wall behind him. She lowers herself and quickly sticks her hand out, successfully implanting a chip into his neck.

"_Done," _Says Miss Martian, floating back up, still in camouflage mode.

"_Good Job," _Says Aqualad, running back to Captain Marvel before he can get up fully. He changes his water-bearers into two long, snaking whips, and charges them with electricity. He swings them quickly at Captain Marvel while Rocket creates a bubble around Doctor Fate, keeping him in place.

Captain Marvel lets out a shout upon being electrocuted by the whips, but does not get knocked out by it. Zatanna gets up from her place on the floor.

"_Peels!" _She shrieks frantically, and Captain Marvel slumps to the ground, asleep.

"_Now!" _Yells Miss Martian.

Rocket releases her bubble around Doctor Fate, and Miss Martian sends a quick blast of telekinetic energy at close range, knocking him out.

The dust settles, and Aqualad carefully takes a step forward toward the two Leaguers slumped against the wall. Captain Marvel lets out a snore.

Aqualad slowly sheaths his water-bearers while Rocket and Miss Martian float down from the ceiling. Zatanna cautiously steps closer to Doctor Fate. They all stop and stare at the three Leaguers.

"_Hey, if you guys aren't busy!" _Yells Kid Flash suddenly through the mind link.

"_On my way," _Informs Aqualad, before turning to the remaining three. "_You three rendezvous with Robin and Superboy,"_

He receives nods of confirmation, and quickly rushes off to aid Kid Flash and Artemis.

"_I'll be right behind you!" _Calls Zatanna, and Miss Martian and Rocket give her a nod and fly off.

She turns wistfully back to the unconscious Doctor Fate, taking another careful step forward, not noticing Icon beginning to stir behind her.

* * *

_Icon feels sick as he watches himself on the video feed, getting up from the blast to the chest he took. The teens, especially Rocket, should have known he had an increased recovery time if he was hit with the energy type his own blasts use._

_Zatanna on the feed is now kneeling by her father, reaching out to touch the helmet that entrapped him. Icon, behind her, draws to his full height and rushes the girl, slamming her into the wall with an audible crunch. She lets out a strangled shriek of pain, but Icon silences her quickly by grabbing her throat in an iron grip._

_Icon closes his eyes and turns around, an ugly feeling of shame and guilt burning in his stomach. He feels bile rise up in his throat as the sounds of a little girl getting strangled echo from the monitor._

_He unclenches his fists and stares at his palms._

_Not even a drop of blood on them, not a single one._

_Zatanna on the monitor scrabbles at Icon's large hands completely encircling her neck, letting out feeble wheezes as her face turns purple. She scratches at him, kicking her legs out to hit him- he barley feels it; her eyes roll back and her hands fall uselessly to her sides. She lets out one last, mangled sounding gasp before she goes silent; but Icon doesn't let go because she's still trembling. He holds her there for another minute at least, until her trembling grows lethargic and stops completely, a thin stream of spit foaming out from her blue lips. Icon gives her one last violent shake for good measure, then throws her across the room where she hits the ground with a thump. She does not cry out, and lays completely still, and Superman cannot hear a heartbeat through the screen._

_Icon on the monitor stares at her; watching for even the vaguest sign of life. None comes, and when he is confident that she is dead, he turns around and begins toward the hallway that leads to the quickest route to the monitor room._

_Just before he reaches the exit, he convulses again; in the corners of the feed, Captain Marvel and Doctor Fate do the same. Icon collapses to the floor as the cure-o-tech takes full effect, releasing the three Leaguers from the control of Klarion, destined to wake hours later because the cure is too slow to take effect any sooner._

* * *

Aqualad rushes down the hall toward a cargo bay, where Kid Flash and Artemis are locked in a deadly battle with their mentors. He knows the others will be fine on their own; they're smart enough not to engage in combat and to get the cure-o tech chips in as quickly as possible.

He sees the flash of an explosion from down the hall, and a shout that sounds like it's from Artemis.

"_I'm amazed we're still alive," _He hears from her over the mind link. "_We have to keep moving if we want it to stay that way;" _Replies Kid Flash. Aqualad feels a surge of confidence that he can help them, and runs faster.

He reaches the cargo bay in record time, running through the open door. To his surprise, not only are Flash and Green Arrow there, but so is his King. Aquaman.

He must not fail tonight, because if he fails here, he fails all of Atlantis.

"_Artemis, Kid!" _He shouts, quickly closing and locking the airtight door. But before he can say 'Now!', an explosive arrow hits his back, and he feels the back of his shirt burn as he gets flung back into the door and across the wall. He feels his water-bearers fly off his back to somewhere into the middle of the room.

Artemis shouts "AQUALAD!" Out loud at the same time Kid Flash shouts "KALDUR!", and he must have blacked out for a second because the next thing he sees is from an angle that can only mean he's lying on the floor.

Kid Flash rushes Green Arrow, who's aiming another arrow right where Aqualad is. Green Arrow goes flying into Aquaman, who was just about to grab Artemis in an Atlantean death-grip. They both crash against some wooden crates at the side of the room. Artemis runs over to them in order to plant the cure, while Kid Flash swaps his focus to his uncle, who is speeding around the room, picking up any arrows Green Arrow or Artemis may have dropped. Aqualad struggles to get up, the heat from the explosion and the burns on his back making him significantly weaker.

He hears Kid Flash successfully tackle his uncle into the wall opposite the crates, just as Artemis yells that she's given the cure to Aquaman. This fills Aqualad with a surge of relief; his King will be okay.

Now filled with more confidence, Aqualad pushes himself up from the floor and shakily jogs over to his dropped weapons. He picks them up just in time for Kid Flash to announce that he's got the cure in the Flash and Artemis yells that Green Arrow's taken care of not a second later.

The Flash shoves Kid Flash back quite harshly; Kid Flash slams into Aqualad in the centre of the room and they both go crashing to the floor. Aquaman takes this as a cue to leap up out of the crate pile he was in, using his Atlantean strength to leap high enough to brush the ceiling. Aqualad sees this and rolls out of the way; but Kid Flash doesn't.

Aquaman lands with a _crrrruuuuuunnncchhhh _that sounds loudly around the room for a second, right on top of Kid Flash's legs. Kid Flash lets out a screech of agony that morphs into a sob that cuts off with a choke; Aquaman leaps off of him, and before Aqualad or Artemis can react, he picks up the speedster and throws him back toward the crates where Aquaman had come from not even seconds before.

"WALLY!" Screams Artemis as he flies past where she had entered a stand-off with Green Arrow and hits the wall behind. She whips around in rage; Aqualad feels a similar rage begin to course through him, and he gets up from the ground and shapes his water-bearers into large, flat-edged swords, good for attacking and defending, as the Flash runs at an invisible speed toward him. He successfully blocks the lightning-fast charge, but doesn't have enough time to parry and ends up blocking another, equally as fast charge not even a second later.

Aqualad continues with this as Artemis abandons her stand-off with Green Arrow and turns her focus to Aquaman; Kid Flash is slumped over some crates in the corner, unconscious. Artemis dodges a flurry of arrows from behind as she backflips over the crates and runs around the blur that is Flash and Aqualad. She reaches the Atlantean king and pulls out a fire arrow; but Aquaman is faster once again, and charges forward and grabs her arm. She shrieks in shock and tries to yank her arm away; but Aquaman's grip is iron-clad, and he twists.

The resulting series of snaps and crunches that sound alarmingly loud throughout the room elicits a scream of pain from Artemis; Aqualad can't risk turning around to check on her well-being because he's still being hounded on all sides by the Flash.

Aquaman shakes Artemis once before forcefully ripping off the bow and quiver of arrows around her chest and back, throwing them far away from her, where she has no hope of reaching them again.

* * *

_The Flash is sobbing harder into his hands as the footage plays; Green Arrow is behind him now, teeth clenched and shaking violently as tears roll thickly down his face. Red Arrow has a hand on his shoulder, the other clenched at his side so hard his knuckles are white. Aquaman has turned away, unwilling and unable to continue watching the disgrace that was occurring in front of him. _

_On the screen, Aquaman lifts up Artemis' shaking form by her mangled arm, eliciting another moan of pain from her._

_Aquaman, not seeing but still hearing everything quite clearly, knows that he is the one who has Artemis on the screen. He hurriedly unclenches the fists at his sides. His fists were over her wrist not so long ago. He can feel his stomach churning as he stares at them._

_The feed continues. Aquaman jumps up in the air to get a greater throwing angle, draws his arm back and launches her toward the far door. Artemis doesn't even have the breath left to scream as her head hits it directly with another crack, and she quickly falls to the ground, her head hitting the lower part of the door before she slumps to lay on her side, leaving an ugly blood splatter. Her arm makes one last weak grab at her other arm before it falls limp. She doesn't move again._

_Green Arrow makes a choking noise next to the Flash, causing him to waver in his sobs and look up. Red Arrow lets out a howl that could have been a sob when it catches on his breath, and Aquaman stares uncomprehendingly. _

_Aqualad on the feed, hearing these worryingly violent noises, turns his head toward his teammate. His eyes widen as he spots her, freezing him in place. This minute distraction is enough to let the Flash get the upper hand instantly; before Aqualad can even register what's going on, he's being grabbed by a red blur, his arms flung up over his head and wrists being twisted, forcing him to drop his weapons. The Flash tackles him roughly to the ground, pressing his face into the floor. Aqualad makes a last reach for his weapons. Flash wastes no more time, grabbing either side of Aqualad's head and twisting quickly._

_The only solace is that it was so fast, it was probably painless._

_Aquaman continues staring at the screen, his chest aching deep and painful. His loyal student is dead. He looks down at his hands again. The same hands that had recently thrown a friend and teammate of said loyal student into a wall, killing her. Red Arrow's breathing has become fast and shallow._

_Aquaman thinks he deserves this._

_Flash, next to him, grips his head hard, his hands trembling. He can feel it. He can feel the speed waiting in his wrists, to twist, just like he had done on this teenager. He knows the exact amount of force that would be required to do it effectively, killing immediately. He could do it to himself, right now, right this second, and he wasn't sure he would have stopped himself if Green Arrow's hands hadn't gently guided his own down from his temples. Green Arrow's hands were shaking too, a rare sight for the best archer in history. It doesn't even make him feel better. He just feels empty, empty, empty._

_On the feed, Aqualad's dropped weapons, now lacking the magic needed to hold them together, loose their sword form and become two puddles of ordinary water with black handles in the middle._

_Green Arrow has been meanwhile making his way toward Kid Flash's unconscious form in the crates, grabbing one of his wrists and dragging him so he's a much easier target. Not even taking a step back, Green Arrow nocks three arrows at once, each aiming roughly at a vital area. He pulls all the way back, and fires. Flash and Aquaman are watching Green Arrow aptly._

_The monitor room is silent except for four sets of heavy breathing, Green Arrow's catching horribly as the bowstring releases three arrows at once into a sixteen-year-old boy. Lethal accuracy, as always. Kid Flash is very dead, an arrow lodged pristinely at the base of his throat where a slow trickle of blood leaks. It rolls down the arrow before catching on the feathers and dripping off._

_The Flash lets out another raw sob at the sight of his nephew lying there. Red Arrow lets out a hoarse sounding 'no' next to him. Something twists in his chest, very harshly, cutting off air to his lungs and stuttering his thought process. It brings with it a stabbing pain and hollowness; one he had never known like this before. It's so raw and tangled, that it's physical. Yet, he still cannot turn away as the feed goes quiet._

_Aquaman turns around at the relative silence of the feed; and all eyes on the room are on the screen as the three Leaguers on there go around the room to check, double check, triple check that they are the only ones alive. As soon as it's confirmed, the three Leaguers stand up a bit straighter and turn slowly around to the door leading out of the room._

_Before he can take a step, Aquaman convulses, falling to the ground not long after. Flash and Green Arrow are affected similarly before they can turn around to check on Aquaman._

_The feed is quiet now, peaceful. Once again, no heartbeats are heard from three of the room's occupants._

_Superman thinks it feels eerie and mournful. Heavy, it's weight so immense it can still be felt hours later and rooms away._

* * *

The hallway was a blur as Miss Martian and Rocket flew through it as fast as they could, going to find and help Robin and Superboy. They didn't have time to dwell on Zatanna, who said she was close behind, and Aqualad, who had gone to help Kid Flash and Artemis.

"_I'm amazed we're still alive," _says Artemis over the mind link. "_We have to keep moving if we want it to stay that way;" _Replies Kid Flash.

Miss Martian sends some confidence through the link to everyone connected to encourage them. No harm in some extra encouragement.

The two teen heroes quickly come to a split in the hallway, one path leading to an observation deck, where they can hear metallic clangs an occasional shout- Robin, probably, - and the other leading up toward a bridge going over the same observation deck. More fighting sounds come from up there, though the hits sound heavier. Superboy.

The two teens share a look.

"_I'll help out Superboy, you go to Robin," _Says Miss Martian quickly, before flying off. Rocket smirks knowingly before flying down the rest of the hallway, into the open area of the observation deck.

Rocket quickly comes in, seeing Robin frantically dodging hits from Hawkwoman. Before she can help however, Wolf tackles Hawkwoman from behind, causing her to hit her head on the floor, knocking her unconscious. Robin doesn't waste a single second, immediately placing the cure to the back of her neck.

Rocket sees something move out of the corner of her eye; Wonder Woman is approaching fast. She flies up to get a better angle, and manages to shield Robin just before he gets lassoed. Wonder Woman retracts her lasso.

Robin stares at Wonder Woman for a second, before announcing "_Now!" _Over the mind link. Rocket takes her shield off Robin and focuses it on Wonder Woman instead, trapping her inside.

"_Can she escape your force bubble?" _Asks Robin.

_"Not if she keeps punching it," _Scoffs Rocket. "_The Kinetic energy only makes it stronger-!" _

At this, Robin rushes over to John Stewart, who is lying unconscious with Sphere whirring on top of him. "_But I'm stuck here; anything I do risks freeing her!" _Rocket continues, as Robin places the cure on John Stewart's neck. Sphere Whirrs before shooting off, presumably to join Superboy. Wolf follows, bounding after her.

The next thing Rocket knows, Robin is shouting "_Look out!" _And Batman is diving towards her, having jumped from above. She manages to fly out of the way in time as Robin jumps at him, and stays up in the air for safety as mentor and protégé fight intensely below her.

This is _Batman. _Batman and _Robin, _two of the only heroes without powers, and yet two of the best all the same. Rocket can't help it if she drinks in their fight, one that seems more like a dance as it continues. Robin weaves and backflips around Batman's punches, but never gets a chance to throw one himself.

Without warning Superboy crashes through the ceiling then continues through the floor, creating a fairly big hole in the concrete. Superman follows quickly after. Robin ignores this, dodging a few more punches and handspringing further back. Batman approaches again, managing to land a hit, causing Robin to fly backwards. He lands lightly after a backflip, drawing his two eriscma sticks. He charges at Batman, getting in a few swings, all of them being dodged. Rocket can see Batman move at a frightening speed behind Robin as he lands on his feet again before he notices.

She winces as Batman lands what looks and sounds like a hard punch, sending Robin flying through the hole Superboy made in the floor. Batman jumps in after him, leaving Rocket alone with Wonder Woman.

She lowers herself a little bit, staring at the Leaguer in the bubble. Wonder Woman has stopped punching, obviously having worked out that it wouldn't help, and is instead standing quite still. She stares at Rocket, and Rocket stares back.

Rocket waits. Someone else will come to her aid eventually, and then they can finally get the cure into Wonder Woman. Above her on the bridge overlooking the observation deck, she can hear some vague noises that must be coming from Miss Martian and whoever she's fighting. Rocket's concentration doesn't waver however, as she needs full awareness to keep up her bubble.

After the longest and most intense few minutes of her life, she notices it has gone quiet. She doesn't really know when that happened, but the kinetic energy powering her bubble is quickly wavering and Wonder Woman has not moved at all. Her bubble will collapse soon if someone doesn't come.

"_Hello? A little help!" _She tries through the mind link, but gets nothing, no answer. She absently wonders where Zatanna is. She had said she was right behind them, so where was she? Rocket could seriously use the help.

It is quickly made apparent that Rocket will have no choice but to take on Wonder Woman by herself very soon, and she would rather have the advantage of choosing when to do that than wait until her bubble goes out on its own. There is nowhere she can go without Wonder Woman knowing, so she just floats up as high as she can and lets the bubble go.

Wonder Woman wasn't expecting the bubble to go out on its own, and so she reacts slower than she usually would. Rocket takes this split second of shock to float down behind her and touch the cure to her neck.

Wonder Woman whirls around and throws a hard punch, sending Rocket swirling through the air.

This is a fight Rocket has no chance of winning, so instead of engaging, she straightens herself and flies as fast as she can in the opposite direction to Wonder Woman.

She doesn't know where she's going, only that she needs to keep Wonder Woman away from her for at most, ten entire minutes. A single second has never seemed so long. She flies down a random hallway, passing several empty rooms that she doesn't know the purpose of, dread settling in her stomach as she hears Wonder Woman nearing. She turns into another connecting hallway and flies faster.

The two fly around the watchtower for what feels like to Rocket to be hours, but had to be less than five minutes because it's not long enough.

Without warning, Rocket is hit from behind with a punch harder than the one before. This one is aimed down, sending her crashing to the floor. Adrenalin races through her veins as she rolls quickly out of the way of a follow up punch, standing up and preparing to take off again.

Only, she finds she can't take off at all.

Every other thing she is thinking is overtaken by complete horror as she spots her belt, broken from the crash, lying where she had landed.

* * *

_Wonder Woman watches herself on the screen as she walks forward while Rocket steps back at the same pace. Rocket keeps glancing desperately at her belt._

_Wonder Woman knows what's going to happen before it does, and she screws her eyes shut in anticipation, gritting her teeth so hard she swears one cracks. She can feel Icon go still from across the room, and a wave of guilt and grief crashes into her so hard her breath stutters._

_Wonder Woman on the feed dives forward, grabbing Rocket by the shoulders. She makes a fist, and brings it down onto Rocket's head so hard that a slight crunch is heard, even form the distance of the camera recording._

_Wonder Woman cringes heavily at the sound, turning away from the screen even though her eyes are still closed. Her face burns with shame, hot tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. She has killed this girl, and caused so much grief to the man across the room, not no mention broken her hero's code in the worst way possible. When you kill someone, you end more than one life._

_The Wonder Woman on the feed feels none of this, and holds Rocket in her grasp for another few seconds. When she doesn't move, she lowers her to the ground on her stomach and holds two fingers to her neck. When Wonder Woman stands up, everybody knows she is dead. Superman especially, as the echoing silence from the teen flips his stomach. He's starting to expect silences where there should never be any._

_Wonder Woman barely gets halfway across the floor before she convulses and falls backwards, landing on her back. The cure has finally integrated fully into her nervous system, mere seconds too late._

_Icon sobs, and Wonder Woman has never felt so ashamed and unworthy of calling herself an Amazonian, let alone a member of the Justice League._

_Nobody in this room is worthy._

* * *

It takes a few minutes for Miss Martian to fly up several flights of stairs, coming up to the long bridge above the observation deck where Rocket and Robin should be. She takes a mental sweep of the area, and sure enough, both Rocket and Robin are underneath her where they should be, along with three Leaguers. She can feel Wolf and Sphere quickly rising up to come and help her and Superboy. Miss Martian falters a bit. Three Leaguers? Maybe they needed her help more than Superboy did.

Her thought process doesn't have a chance to go farther as Superboy flies past her, having taken a heavy hit from Superman. She scans the room mentally again, this time focusing on those closest to her. There; her uncle is next to Superman, both of them advancing slowly on Superboy.

She camouflages herself and flies silently over behind the two Leaguers, a chip each ready in her telepathic grasp. But before she can place them, Sphere and Wolf fly out of the stairwell and Sphere crashes violently into her uncle, sending him back a fair way. She turns straight around and crashes into Superman as well, though this time on top of him, grinding him into the ground as much as she can.

Miss Martian takes advantage of her uncle's disorientation, nearing him silently from behind. He is not fooled however, and morphs his face into the back of his head and grabs her. In retaliation, she morphs into her white Martian form so she can focus all her energy on the fight.

_"Sorry uncle J'onn" s_he says, staring him in the eye. "_you leave me no choice,"_ before her eyes glow red and she sends waves of flame toward him through her mind. He screams in pain, but she can't let herself feel guilty; this is not her uncle, this is a mind-controlled puppet that needs to be stopped to _save_ her uncle. Once he is trembling and gripping his head, she places the cure-o-tech into him with no problem.

The next thing she knows, she's hit -really, _really _hard- and crashing into the wall and then bouncing along the floor. She thinks she blacks out for a second; that was the hardest she's ever been hit in her life; it must have been Superman.

She's proud of Superboy for not screaming out her name in rage like he usually does.

He does, however, take a reckless dive at Superman, who dodges and parries it easily, punching Superboy downward and sending them both crashing several floors down, past Robin and Rocket and landing who knows where. She feels her rarely seen rage flare up at that, and gets up quickly, not bothering to focus her form into her human-like one. She needs as much power she can get, and it will do no good wasting it on things like that.

While her uncle is still disorientated from the fire, she hits him with it again, this one knocking him unconscious. She doesn't relax however, as she can feel two more mental presences coming at her from the other end of the hallway. To her slight worry, both are Leaguers, but she quickly quashes that in favour of determination. She has to beat them, for the League and the Team.

Red Arrow and Hal Jordan come running and flying respectively around the corner, most likely having heard the massive commotion caused by Superboy and Superman. They both spot her, and spot her uncle next to her, and she can see them put the pieces together as Red Arrow nocks a flame arrow and Hal Jordan's ring starts to glow.

Miss Martian doesn't waste time; her Martian form isn't very aerodynamic, so she sticks to the ground and instead flickers on her camouflage just in time to dodge a fiery arrow as it whizzes past her. She sends out a wave of confusion; both Red Arrow and Hal Jordan falter and hold their heads briefly as a result, and Miss Martian takes the opportunity to dash behind them and quickly give the cure to each of them.

Hal Jordan recovers fist, rising up and forming a giant green bubble around her. Red Arrow comes to his senses soon after, and nocks two more flame arrows. She sends a concentrated psychic blast at Hal Jordan, and he releases the bubble as he goes flying into the wall. Red Arrow fires immediately, this time hitting his mark, and Miss Martian screams mentally as her Martian flesh burns against two flame arrows, sending her stumbling back and collapsing to the ground. Red Arrow advances, nocking more arrows; Miss Martian dimly notes that these ones are explosive, and for the first time, a wave of fear hits her. Her long, white Martian limbs won't listen to her, and she ends up rolling awkwardly to the side to avoid another arrow instead of getting up like she wanted.

The explosion from the arrow was close to her, and the searing heat from it makes her scream in her mind again. She scrabbles mentally; another telepathic blast is sent, this one wider, but weaker. It sends Red Arrow stumbling back, and the next explosive arrow he was nocking falls out of his hands. She sighs mentally in relief. She closes her eyes and focuses harder; sensing Hal Jordan and Red Arrow in her mind, and sending sharper blasts their way. Hal Jordan shoots up to the ceiling, successfully dodging it, but Red Arrow is hit, getting sent back into the wall.

Miss Martian stands up, struggling. She can do this.

Hal Jordan creates a glowing green spear out of his ring, and Miss Martian is forced to change her form to something faster and easier to move to dodge it. It's with her familiar green-human form that she does so, floating up and weaving through the air to avoid very accurate stabs and slashes with the spear. She builds up telepathic energy in her head as she dodges, preparing to release it all at once and knock both of them unconscious.

Before she can however, she notices Red Arrow's mind shift, and she turns to see what he's doing.

He's got three flame arrows nocked, aimed right at her, and he's much closer to her than she realised.

* * *

_Red Arrow starts to laugh; a crazy, horrible, broken laugh as he on the screen releases the three flame arrows. Miss Martian manages to dodge-_

_Mostly._

_Her body twists out of the way, but her left arm is slower than the rest, and all three arrows hit it dead-on. Miss Martian lets out a screech of agony, so high and powered up with telepathic energy that the lens of the camera cracks, and the next few seconds are blurred with static as the camera adjusts. When it does, Miss Martian is on her knees, moaning in pain and staring with wide eyes and frantic breathing at a splatter of ash and black tar-like substance to her left. She clutches where her left arm was with her right arm, and her hand is covered in the thick, black substance as it drips steadily from the open, fresh wound. She's in too much pain and shock to avoid the glowing green spear that descends upon her._

_Red Arrows's laughs mould down into chocked sobs, and he takes his bow and quiver of arrows from his back and throws them across the room. Nobody moves to pick them up, and his face falls into his hands as he continues to sob harder. Martian Manhunter does not cry; but his posture hunches over terribly and the whole room suddenly feels ten times worse as he unknowingly broadcasts his grief._

_The next few seconds of the feed passes quickly, with Hal Jordan's glowing green spear flinging into Miss Martian in multiple places, the wet thump of flesh being pierced the only sound from the monitor. Miss Martian lets out a gasp of pain at each one, but is still too much in shock to make sounds for the pain she must be feeling. Hal Jordan sees that the Martian is not dying, and changes his spear into a classic, pointed sword._

_It takes one more fast, close range stab right in her stomach for Miss Martian to let out one more feeble gasp and lie on her side, curling in on herself as the thick, black liquid that covers everything starts to leak from there too and finally slows. Her form morphs back into her white Martian true form, no mental commands left telling her to keep up her human one._

_Martian Manhunter's emotions crash into everyone again at this, making Wonder Woman and Flash start to sob again, while Red Arrow lowers to the ground on his knees, wailing in agony. Batman doesn't appear to be affected, but Superman hears his breath hitch in his lungs and his heart skip a beat. He can't dwell on this however, as his own grief combined with Martian Manhunter's is eating at him, making the tears that had been building up finally break through his in-control facade. He sinks lower in his seat as he starts to sob and wail, joining the sounds of other Leaguers joining him._

_Hal Jordan and Red Arrow on the screen approach the mutilated form, standing over her. Neither of them know how to take a Martian pulse, so they just stand there and wait for movement. The room stays deathly still however, and they both eventually decide that she must be dead, for even when unconscious, wounds continue to bleed at a steady pace while hers are going so sluggishly they may as well not be going at all._

_Both of them turn mechanically and leave the screen, making their way to the monitor room where they will stand and do nothing until the cure takes full effect. Martian Manhunter on the feed is now floating serenely in place, adding to the stillness of the image._

* * *

Robin flies through the hole in the floor, a shout of pain echoing after him. He manages to do a backflip in mid-air and land on his feet, right next to Superboy, who is just standing up after a probably hard punch form Superman. Robin can't help the little flip of nerves his stomach does. This is life or death, and he's fighting _Batman; _he knows there's no way he'll win by himself, so he turns to Superboy, who is in the same position. Protégé and mentor, protégé significantly weaker than mentor, no chances at winning alone.

"We're not gonna beat 'em one-on-one!" Yells Robin to Superboy, not through the mind link, too distracted to think to use it.

"Plan B then!" Replies Superboy determinedly, and Robin mentally kicks himself for not thinking of that. He runs to Superboy who picks him up by the arm just as Batman and Superman glide down from above, and swings him around twice before letting him go, sending him flying into Batman's descending figure. Robin kicks out as he does this, hitting Batman directly in the chest and causing them both to fly backwards into the wall. Batman hits it hard, hard enough to send bits of concrete flying and even let out a grunt of pain, and Robin feels a wave of guilt wash over him.

"_Sorry Bruce," _He thinks, but not through the mind link. On the way down he touches the cure-o-tech to Batman's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he knows his mentor will be okay. Batman hits the ground hard and Robin leaps off him, knowing that Batman will only be knocked out for a few seconds at most, the insane training combined with the mind control being enough to make sure he doesn't stay down. Not wasting any time, Robin watches as Superboy dives at Superman and manages to trap him against the wall with both arms struggling to restrain him.

"Are you sure about this?" Robin asks as he runs to their side, fishing in his belt for the piece of Kryptonite he had collected from the Batcave earlier.

"DO IT!" Yells Superboy, and Robin admires his guts as he holds the piece out, close, but not close enough to cause serious harm. Superman's eyes widen and Superboy's grip loosens, both of them falling to the floor and grunting in pain, Superman completely but Superboy only to his knees. Robin runs up to Superman and places the cure, the worry that they might fail that had been niggling at the back of his mind fading as he watches it absorb into the Kryptonian's skin. He doesn't lower his guard however; as he puts the Kryptonite back in his belt, he hears movement from behind him, and before he knows it, he's stumbling back again from one of Batman's hard punches. He doesn't have time to straighten himself before Batman hits him again, right across the face, and Robin knows that's going to bruise and Bruce will hate himself for it later. Batman hits him a third time, causing him to fall backwards and land the most graceless landing he has ever landed. He hears a cry of rage from somewhere nearby, and then Superboy tackles the advancing Batman away from Robin, giving him a chance to stand up and draw his eriscma sticks.

Batman throws Superboy off easily with some complicated manoeuvres that are too fast to make out properly; after all, Batman has trained for every scenario, including fighting off Kryptonians. Robin charges while Batman is still distracted, leaping over his head and doing a flip in mid-air so that he has a good angle to land a solid hit with the sticks. Batman turns to him as he lands, and Robin steels himself for a lot of dodging.

"_Superboy," _Robin tries through the mental link. He gets a grunt in reply. "_We have to try and knock him out; I'm not strong enough to do it, but you are, so I'll distract him while you go for his head from behind- not too hard though!" _He adds on hurriedly. Superboy agrees, and Robin turns back to Batman, who is now swinging another fist at him that he dodges.

This continues for a little while; Robin dodges and weaves past Batman, who doesn't even look tired, while Superboy repeatedly launches himself at Batman only to be dodged or miss as Batman moves out of the way. Robin keeps an eye on Superman, and shouts a warning to Superboy when he sees him start to move.

Superboy doesn't move fast enough, and the next thing he knows Superman is there, faster than the human eye can see, tackling Superboy out of the way and starting to hit.

Robin's eyes widen at this, and he falters minutely; but even that is enough for Batman to grab him by the collar of his cape and lift him up. Robin makes choking noises that are drowned out by the sound of Batman growling and Superman and Superboy scuffling behind him. He suddenly feels lighter, and realises with horror that Batman has ripped off his utility belt and is twisting it in his hand; Batman lets him go and Robin gasps for breath as he sees Batman _twist _his hands and his utility belt break clean in half. Robin catches his breath faster after that, charging in rage with his sticks drawn. Knocking Batman out is no longer an option, so he has to keep him distracted for the rest of the time.

Robin's charge is sloppy, and Batman catches his wrists easily, twisting them and forcing him to drop his sticks. Robin struggles to get out of the grip of steel; Batman can grip _hard _if he wants to. Robin finally breaks out with a grasp, and when he angles around to pick his eriscma sticks back up, Batman kicks him in the stomach and sends him sprawling a fair way from where they are. Robin stands up, and to his horror he finds that Batman has managed to kick him into a corner, and as Batman advances, there's nowhere he can run to defend himself.

For the first time since meeting him, Robin is truly afraid of his friend, his mentor, his _father_. Batman does not stop advancing, and soon looms over Robin before grabbing him by the throat.

Robin lets out a sob as he realises that there's nothing he can do, Superboy and Superman still struggling in the background.

* * *

_A little part of Batman's steely facade crumbles when he hears Robin on the feed let out that small sob, and he can feel his heart getting stabbed and breaking. His outside demeanour doesn't change, or if it does it's so minute nobody will notice, but on the inside, he wails in agony. His son. His son. His son._

_Batman on the feed lifts Robin up by the throat, and Robin kicks and struggles. Batman thrusts his head against the wall, causing Robin to make a strangled noise, before he goes quiet and still, the whites in his mask nearly fully closed. Batman drops Robin like a sack of bricks, and he slumps against the floor, unconscious. His chest is still rising- he's still alive._

_Taking his focus off Robin for now, Batman turns toward Superman and Superboy who are still having a very destructive fight a short way away. He walks over to Robin's broken utility belt and rummages around the pockets; the contents spill over the floor, smoke bombs, rebreathers, a grappling hook, some batarangs, and numerous other random gadgets and trinkets that could be useful in the most trying situations. Batman doesn't stop until he gets to the lead-lined pouch that holds the glowing green rock of death to all Kryptonians._

_Batman stands up, and Superman freezes from where he had been diving at Superboy. Superboy struggles in confusion for a moment, before Batman advances and he starts to feel the first signs of Kryptonite sickness, just like earlier when Robin had used it. This time, however, Superman has the sense to fly up, up, and well away from the green rock; Batman ignores him and advances faster, making sure Superboy can't escape._

_Superboy, who was lying on the ground in the first place, can't get up. He takes deep breaths as Batman comes near, cringing in pain when he kneels down, the Kryptonite centimetres away from his face. Batman kicks him over so his back is facing the ceiling and his limbs lay spread-eagled._

_Superman takes in a sharp breath at the image of his clone in such a weak position, against the only thing he doesn't really have a hope of beating. His chest fills with... something. Something not pleasant. A terrible, pulling guilt, regret even, as on the feed Batman tightens his fist over the green rock and thrusts it down into the base of Superboy's neck, twisting to make it go deeper._

_Superman feels sick, as if the Kryptonite were in front of him in real life, not on a monitor screen. He hears Batman make an odd choking noise next to him, quiet enough that anyone else would have missed it._

_Superman on the feed however, remains impassive, floating a good distance away and watching with cold eyes. He lands far away from his clone as the veins around his neck start to turn yellowish green._

_Batman, confident that Superboy won't get up again, turns back to Robin. Now that he doesn't have to worry about Superboy..._

_He advances quickly, pulling something out from his utility belt. When it flashes in the light, the whole room can see that it's a batarang. He leans down, and picks several up from where they had come out from Robin's belt._

_Batman can't bring himself to turn away as he watches himself advance on his son. He finds... he doesn't want to turn away. He needs to see this... his boy's final moments, before getting killed by his hand. He needs to see it. He needs to._

_So… so he never, ever lets anything like it ever happen again._

_Batman thinks he deserves this crushing feeling he has; he deserves it and so much more. He deserves to get expelled from the Justice League. He deserves to get arrested. He needs to be punished for what he did to his boy, his son, while he was so helpless, and only trying to help them, they didn't deserve his help, he's too good for them and he didn't deserve it, he's dead he'll never see him again and never get to say how proud he is and how much he loves him it's his fault he's dead he's dead he did it he did it he did it-_

_Batman grips his head as Superman gently places a hand on his shoulder._

_"Maybe you should look away," suggests Superman in a low voice. "Nobody will judge you, w… w-we've all lost someone-"_

_Batman turns to face Superman, and Superman goes quiet immediately. He has never felt or seen grief so powerful from only a single look, even if the look is cowled. Superman keeps an eye on Batman as he turns back to the screen._

_Batman on the screen picks up Robin again, by the collar, and Robin stirs. The whites in his mask widen as he sees Batman directly in front of him, but he doesn't seem to be fully aware, as he smiles slightly and relaxes in the grip. He realises something's wrong when Batman doesn't put him down, and then snaps to full awareness as the whites in his mask widen even more and he begins to struggle._

_Batman takes one of the batarangs he picked up from Robin's belt, and starts to saw at the Kevlar uniform on his protégé's chest. Robin struggles even more, and gasps when the sharp edge of the batarang cuts into his skin, having finally broken through. Batman sees this and cuts deeper, blood welling up at the edges and spilling over when he lifts it._

_Batman discards the bloodied batarang, continuing to carve tears in the Kevlar in order to expose enough skin for what must be the end goal with a clean one. Once that one bloodies, he discards it too, and pulls out another one. He does this a few more times until he gets to the last one he picked up from the floor out of Robin's belt. With this one, he finishes tearing enough Kevlar, and takes out his last batarang; one he pulled from his own belt, not Robin's. Robin's breathing can be heard as frantic beneath Batman's restraining hold._

_Superman glances sideways at Batman through the teary sheen over his eyes._

_"Why do y... why do the batarangs keep getting discarded?" He asks carefully. Batman does not answer. He doesn't even hear Superman, which is probably for the best because if he had, he wouldn't have forgiven that little slip of the tongue. He stares at the screen, not having blinked since it started. He tells himself this is why he's started crying._

_The gasps and small whimpers from Robin fill the monitor room as Batman lifts the batarang._

_In one last act of desperation, Robin screams._

_"_Dad, NO!" _He screeches, quickly followed by the ugly squelching of blood and flesh and bone being pierced when the batarang hits its mark, right in Robin's heart. Batman twists, just to be sure._

_Robin makes a mangled, pain filled-wail, convulsing upwards and shaking in Batman's grip. It doesn't take long for him to let out one final loud gasp, before he falls limp and still._

_Superman has heard silence from this teen's chest twice over, and it hurts the most the third time._

_Batman on the monitor turns and leaves to head to the monitor room, Superman flying after him, where they will later collapse in a random hallway about halfway there._

_Batman watching the feed follows, turning and leaving the monitor room in silence._

* * *

END PART 1

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so obviously, this story is meant to be an alternate version of Auld Acquaintance. There are a few differences/things that should be made known if you missed them or didn't quite understand them in the story:**

**-The cure takes 5-10 minutes to cause the recipient to go unconscious, and for the healing process to start. This is why the Team left Black Canary in the Bio-ship.**

**-Upon being given a cure, if the recipient sees they are alone, they have programming that forces them to go toward the monitor room. If they have a target, they will attempt to eliminate it before going there. **

**-The healing process takes at least a few hours to complete after the recipient gets knocked out after the 5-10-minute timeframe**

**-Red Arrow did not manage to avoid getting re-infected, meaning he wasn't fighting against the League with the Team. This means that he had to get healed somehow. In the show, he, Red Tornado and Black Canary manage to heal Hal Jordan, but that obviously couldn't happen here as Red Tornado and Black Canary are out for the count as well as Red Arrow. So, since those two are technically still wandering around the watchtower in this version, I had Miss Martian take care of them.**

**-The Team did manage to transfer Red Tornado into his human-robot body, which they left in the Bio-ship with Black Canary to keep an eye on her. They brought his old robot-body in hopes that they could leave it there for repairs afterwards.**

**-And finally, the League was not limited by Klarion's less than adequate knowledge of their skills. **


	2. I'm always in the corner of your mind

_I'm Always In The Corner Of Your Mind_

**Part 2. This one will focus on the aftermath in general, for the League, and Bruce Wayne, or Batman. To be honest, it's mostly Batman though.**

**Also, in case it isn't clear, the second paragraph is supposed to take place afterwards, and everything that follows is what leads up to that paragraph.**

**Title of this chapter from 'Stream' by Last Dinosaurs**

* * *

_Batman remembers going to collect his boy. The videos had played, everybody present knew exactly what had happened._

_They were all murderers._

_He turned a hallway, another one, went through a room to another hallway, continued. He walked and walked, his swift strides feeling numb on his feet._

_It wasn't long before he reached the open area of the observation deck, destruction imminent everywhere around the floor. He spotted Superboy; the Kryptonite spiderwebs had spread to his arms, pulsing an ugly, bright green under his skin. Batman looked away. His eyes came to rest on a small figure lying in the corner, against a wall._

_His breath hitched and his step faltered as he got nearer._

_His boy, lying there, stiller and more silent than he had ever been. His boy, multiple deep cuts and a shredded uniform looking out of place on his usually lively pale figure. His boy, dead and gone, killed by his useless, horrible, awful father._

_Batman fell to his knees in front of Robin, deep, shaky, hoarse gasps wracking his whole body as he reached out and gathered him into his arms, holding him close against his chest. The batarang sticking out of Robin's chest pressed uncomfortably against Batman's armour; he pulled it out carefully, blood dripping off the end staining the already red uniform. Batman put it aside._

_He buried his face into his son's hair and sobbed, breathing in the scent of familiar shampoo that would now sit and remain unused. He clutched his fist in Robin's cape, the weight pulling on him so hard it felt physical. _

_The last words Dick had ever said echoed. Words begging for him to stop._

_"I'm sorry," he sobbed into his boy's hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it should have been me, I'm so sorry,"_

_He stayed there until he heard someone come to collect Superboy. Then, he stood up, his son cradled tightly in his arms, and walked back to make his way to the morgue of the Watchtower, the very thought twisting something unpleasant._

* * *

There were several funerals held. Most had one for their civilian identities, spaced carefully apart over the course of a year to avoid suspicion. Eight civilians who looked suspiciously like eight heroes died at the same time said heroes disappeared? Too obvious.

Kaldur'ahm was first. Secret identities did not matter in Atlantis, and all the citizens already knew who he was and who he worked with. He was mourned by the whole city immediately and truthfully (enough), them having been told he was killed in an attack on the Watchtower, but nothing more than that.

Those who were normal civilians came next, nearly immediately after. Wally West and Artemis Crock, their families not having enough money or influence to successfully and un-suspiciously postpone their deaths. Wally West was killed in a car wreck, the only casualty. Artemis Crock was caught in a hold-up at a store in Gotham, unfortunately playing the role of hostage.

A few months after them, were those who's civilian identities weren't too well-known or were secluded. Zatanna Zatara and Raquel Ervin. Zatanna, to her friends outside of hero work, was home-schooled. She could be out of contact for months and not raise any suspicion. So, she and her father had been killed in a house robbery, just as they were packing to move. Raquel was much the same. She travelled a lot, and so she didn't have many steady friends who remained in contact with her. All her direct family knew her hero identity, so they were told the same as Atlantis what happened. Officially, she had been swept up in a particularly strong rip while swimming at the beach, and drowned.

Dick Grayson would be last, as his was able to be postponed the longest. He was scheduled to die in November, after having been sent to a prestigious boarding school in the mountains where he wouldn't have any access to internet to contact his friends back home. When asked, Bruce Wayne stated at a press conference that he thought the younger generation spent way too much time on their devices and that Dick had needed a break for a year.

Dick Grayson would die just before he returned home, in a skiing accident. He landed on some sharp rocks, accounting for the jagged piercing wounds found in the autopsy.

M'gann M'orzz and Connor Kent didn't have real, official, legalised civilian identities, so their schools were told they had moved again and their funerals were strictly League ceremonies.

The League ceremonies themselves were massive. Every single hero, those in the League and those not in the League were permitted to attend, and most of them did. Another room was built in the centre of the Watchtower specifically to display the holograms of the teen heroes, and this is where the service was held, Superman at the podium speaking lowly of the achievements and successes of each of them.

The League members who had watched the security footage had put together an edited version that only showed the Team placing the cure-o-tech chips. Even then, some violence couldn't be avoided, but they avoided the worst and most unnecessary of it. Nobody said anything about how the Team had been killed, but nobody needed to.

The Justice League was suspended by Superman until further notice.

* * *

A few days after he returned from the Watchtower on New Year's Eve, released from Vandal Savage's control, Bruce Wayne sat in the Batcave, his hands clenched tightly around a single batarang. Dried blood was crusted on the end, and he could not even begin to fathom the thought of wiping it off.

He stared at it until it warped in his vision, twisting oddly until it fuzzed and blurred. He felt like throwing it, but he could not; throwing it would be like throwing away part of his son, and only a terrible father would ever throw his son away.

Bruce Wayne bowed his head and the hands clenched around the batarang began to tremble.

He heard footsteps clanging on the metal steps leading up to the manor and looked up to find Alfred, his oldest and most faithful friend and father figure. Alfred said nothing, but came and stood next to Bruce, gently taking the batarang from him. Bruce was too exhausted and weak to protest, so he let him.

Alfred took his arm with care, hoisting him up from his seat.

"Come, Master Bruce," He said quietly. "You must get out of this darkness and eat something."

Bruce didn't bother protesting, though he couldn't see the point of eating at a dinner table that could seat fifty people, most of the time seated only two, and would now forever only seat one.

When he sat down and stared at the delicious looking and smelling soup Alfred had prepared, the man seated next to him and watching him aptly, the table echoed with an emptiness that dug at him and dug at him and dug at him.

Dick's presence had filled all forty-nine other seats, and all of them were empty. He couldn't bare it. He couldn't bare it.

Bruce ate a spoonful of soup, only because it was necessary for survival. It tasted like water and ash on his tongue. Alfred continued watching him, until he finished it. When the silver spoon dropped in the ceramic bowl, it echoed much too loudly.

* * *

Dick was cryogenically frozen to make sure he stayed whole before November, the month he and the League had decided would be best to have him announced dead to the public in. Today, Wally West had died in a terrible car accident and in a few days Artemis Crock would get killed in a hold up in a grocery store. Soon the others would follow, but Dick would have to wait. He had only just recently been sent to his new, mountain boarding school. The press loved it, encouraging their readers and watchers to take inspiration and let their kids have breaks from technology from time-to time.

The tube that held the frozen face of Dick Grayson was in the Batcave, wiped regularly and cleaned every day. Only the best would do for Dick.

Bruce stared at the still form of his son, still in his bloody Robin uniform, the mask having been removed. Bruce couldn't bear the thought of never seeing those bright blue eyes again, even if they were only half-open and unseeing, clouded with death. Bruce stared at them and remembered, remembered how they would crinkle at the edges when he smiled, how they would dance with happiness, shine with mischief. They looked too serene in death to be real, to belong to someone as wonderful and bright as Dick Grayson.

Bruce couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Dick looked in his tube. Death didn't suit his youthful face, and the frost along the screen had stuck to his skin, making it look worse. He carefully wiped his hand along the glass, the thin sheen of frost melting at his touch. Good. It needed to be as clear as possible, all the time.

As he turned to go back to setting up the glass display case where he would keep Dick's costume once he was out of it, he was hyper-aware of the body behind him. He felt like it was watching him, and for some reason, that relaxed him greatly. He could almost imagine it was just Dick watching him from his favourite hiding place in the rafters, waiting for the perfect moment to take him by surprise. Bruce was never surprised of course, but now he wished he had acted like it, even a little bit.

He went with this feeling, finding it calmed him. Father and son, spending time together in the Batcave, an opportunity only this particular father and son had. He could mould the echoing and empty silence of the cave into a companionable one, occasionally filled with some water dripping or bats screeching and flapping. He lost himself in his work, calmer than he had been in a while.

When he turned to call Dick to come upstairs, he was hit with reality, and a numb feeling washed over him.

Bruce climbed up to the manor alone, his breathing irregular and his hands shaking.

* * *

_Bruce didn't know where he was, he just was. In front of him were the team of protégés he and the League had founded. Looking at them filled him with something he couldn't name._

_They were standing in a line, in what seemed to be a random order, observing him curiously. He saw Dick there, as Robin, observing him the same as his friends, and was filled with a grief he could not name._

_Bruce opened his mouth._

_"Don't worry, this is just a dream;" he said, as the Team looked on in interest. "When I wake up, you'll wake up too."_

_Dick smiled at him, and opened his mouth to reply. _

Bruce woke up with a sinking feeling, and it took him a second to remember that that hadn't been real.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

Bruce would go into Dick's room every day, and just observe. He would look around the room, take in the cluttered desk, the posters on the wall, the unmade bed, the dusty bookshelf. It was Dick's personal space, where he had spent most of his free time. Sitting on the bed and looking around the room made him feel things he didn't know how to identify, and yet not feel anything at all.

In his dreams, he and Dick would hang out in here sometimes. Bruce would show Dick a game he had liked in his childhood on his laptop, and Dick would laugh and tell him a thousand ways to improve it. They would stay in there for a bit, before they were outside playing basketball, or eating food together. Dick would always look happy, something he was grateful for.

Sometimes, Bruce would pass by the closed door and hear weeping coming from inside. He didn't enter whenever he did, and made sure to sit and eat dinner together with Alfred that night so neither of them would feel as lonely. It never quite filled the gaping emptiness, but it was a small comfort for both of them.

He went down into the cave more often, but never as Batman. He hadn't put on his suit since he had returned from the Watchtower that night, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to ever again. Whenever he looked at it, all he could see was a hulking figure on a camera feed looming over a cowering boy, and all he could hear were the last begs for him to stop.

Sometimes, he talked to Dick in the frozen chamber. It felt therapeutic. He would tell him about his boring day at Wayne enterprises, like he might have done if things were normal. He would imagine what Dick would say, something most likely to be funny or quippy, trying to make his day not sound as boring. He sometimes wove entire conversations in his head with Dick, about both of their days and the most recent happenings in Gotham and Dick's friends. Bruce would wipe the glass free of frost and it would go on for hours.

Alfred had to drag him back upstairs sometimes. He didn't seem to think it was healthy for Bruce to spend so much time with Dick, and even though Bruce disagreed, he let him. How could something that lessened the crushing emptiness and numbness not be healthy?

* * *

_This time, the Team was chatting when Bruce found himself back where he didn't know. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but their mouths were moving and they were making wild gestures and facial expressions. Aqualad was talking intensely to Rocket, who was listening and nodding along seriously. Zatanna and Artemis were whispering to each other, sly smirks on their faces as they glanced around at their friends. Wally seemed to be happily chatting with M'gann, moving his hands so fast he was using a bit of his speed, and Robin looked to be teaching Superboy something if the slightly confused look on the clone's face was anything to go by._

_As he looked, each of them noticed him and fell silent, though not in a hostile way. The atmosphere remained light and comfortable._

_Bruce opened his mouth._

_"Don't worry, this is just a dream;" he said, drinking in the way each of the teen's faces changed in curiosity. "When I wake up, you'll wake up too."_

_Robin smiled at him and let out a pleasant laugh that he couldn't hear, and opened his mouth to reply._

Bruce woke up feeling light from the atmosphere of the dream. It took a few seconds before a weight permanently in his chest set in and pulled him back down, reality slowly coming back to him.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

The cave became Bruce's home at home, because home is where Dick is and Dick is in the cave.

Sometimes he would skip work to spend all day there, calling in sick and trusting his staff to fill in for him. Alfred allowed it the first few times, but decided enough was enough after more than a month of doing it on and off.

"You don't want to use up all your leave, sir," said Alfred, a disapproving frown on his face. "You need to spend some time outside and with your work colleagues. Perhaps work will help keep your mind off things?"

Bruce sighed and agreed, though he couldn't help but think that talking to Dick was all he needed to keep his mind off things. Dick was a good conversationalist.

Work felt even more purposeless than usual, and he couldn't get the thought out of his head that the time he spent there would be better spent in the cave or in Dick's room. His boy needed company, and he needed to keep the memory of him fresh. He found that Alfred cried in Dick's room less and less these days, so he spent more time in there to make up for it. He knew Dick would appreciate it.

Bruce also cried less these days, but it was only because he had Dick to look forward to when he got home. He couldn't imagine what he'd do without the cave to turn to.

His dreams with Dick had evolved into something more akin to nightmares. They might start out happy or normal, but would always end with Dick cowering in terror as Bruce approached with his hands outstretched. Dick would plead with him to stop, but Bruce would not stop, desperate to get to his son, to be with his son, his son his son his son. Sometimes, he would be in bed after a dream, and Dick would be there, just staring at him with empty eyes, a bloody hole in his chest where a batarang glinted. Bruce couldn't move. He couldn't move. His boy needed him, but he couldn't move, paralysed to the bed. Those ones were the worst.

He always felt terrible when he woke up, and talking to Dick about it calmed him down.

_"What's the matter, Bruce? You look even more grave than usual!" _Dick would say.

"I'm just happy that they're only dreams," Bruce admitted. He could admit anything to Dick. If he couldn't trust his son, then who could he trust?

_"Yeah, they are," _smiled Dick, "_And I_ _forgive you_ _for having them. You know they're silly, anyway!"_

Bruce would sob in relief, and nod. His son forgave him. Maybe he wasn't such a failure at being a father as much as he thought.

"_What are you talking about?" _Dick asks, shocked. "_You're the coolest dad ever! You could never fail at that, you're Batman for god's sake! There's nothing cooler than having Batman as your dad,"_

Bruce smiles tearfully, on his knees.

"Thank you," he says. "Thank you, Dick, that means so much,"

Dick would hug him, he thinks. He wraps his arms around himself, and rocks slowly on the cave floor.

* * *

_When Bruce once again didn't know where he was, the Team looked very sad. He observed them as they observed him, each of them slouching uncomfortably, their shoulders hunched in grief. All of their eyes were glued to him, and all of their eyes were filled with sorrow and pity, a cutting sadness that couldn't be expressed in words. His boy looked so wrong like that. He shouldn't look like that, he was always happy, never this sad. Looking at them being sad made him feel sad, and he wanted to reassure them._

_Bruce opened his mouth._

_"Don't worry, this is just a dream;" he said desperately, each of their gazes looking on at him in complete sorrow. "When I wake up, you'll wake up too."_

_Robin continued to stare at him. He didn't open his mouth to reply, just gazed with blue eyes behind a mask that he knew so well, but never so broken._

Bruce woke up crying, and he couldn't work out why. It took him a minute or two to remember, and then the sadness he had felt began to feel sharper and emptier.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

Two months after the night on the Watchtower, Bruce came up to have dinner with Alfred without prompting, pleasantly surprising Alfred. Alfred smiled as Bruce sat down, the lonely look to his face gone for the first time since.

"I'm glad you came, sir," said Alfred, sitting down across from Bruce. Bruce looked up at him, and smiled. This surprised Alfred even more, though he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Perhaps the Master had begun to heal properly, like Alfred had been working on doing. Richard's absence in the manor was felt keenly.

"It's bad for you to spend so much time alone in that cave," he continued, noticing how Bruce looked up sharply at him. "Why not come with me tomorrow, and we can-"

"I'm not alone in there," Bruce interrupted, making Alfred cut off and raise an eyebrow. "Dick's there too, don't forget."

Alfred stared at him. Bruce went back to eating his dinner, and suddenly Alfred wasn't so glad that he had come up here on his own.

"Master Bruce," he said gently. Bruce looked up at him with a vulnerable expression, pausing in his eating. "It's true that denial is the first stage of grieving, but this is frankly ridiculous."

Bruce looked down, and something flashed in his eyes.

"Sir," Alfred continued tearfully, worry and fear raw in his voice. "This isn't good for you. You need to spend less time in that cave, I..." He took a shaky breath, and reached over to place a hand over Bruce's. "I can't lose you too, not like this..."

Bruce looked down in shame.

"I know Alfred, but-" He began, but was choked off by an emotion that broke his voice and clouded his eyes.

"I... I-I... I ccc-can't', It's n-not..." He said hoarsely.

Alfred said nothing, just remained there with his hand over Bruce's in comfort. Bruce used his other hand to grip his head tightly as he took in shaky breaths.

"Perhaps it's better if we keep a sheet over the young master," said Alfred quietly. Bruce didn't have it in him to protest, only to nod weakly. "And keep you out of the cave for a bit."

Bruce didn't have it in him to say no, not to Alfred. Not about this.

The next day, he stayed in his room and didn't go to the cave upon Alfred's request. The loneliness ate at him.

* * *

_Bruce stared at the teens in front of him, observing him passively against a generic background. He couldn't help the well of feelings he felt as he observed them and they observed him, a pang of pain. A stab of grief. But, as he stared at his son's masked face, he couldn't help it when he felt that it just wasn't fair. It was his fault, but he didn't mean it. It wasn't fair._

_He stepped forward and grabbed a hold of his son's shoulders, shaking. They felt like nothing underneath his hands. The Team watched on with mild expressions, not intervening. _

_"You have to wake up!" He choked, staring down at the blank lenses where the blue eyes he loved so much should be. "When I wake up, you'd better wake up too! That's an order, Robin!"_

_Robin stared blankly through him. Bruce let go, unable to bear gripping his son's shoulders but not feeling anything. He breathed a harsh breath._

_Robin raised his arm up to salute in acknowledgement of the order. _

Bruce woke up with a start, his heart racing and breathing heavy. He could feel sweat matting his hair, down his neck, soaking his back. He let out a huff.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

It didn't take long for Batman to return to the streets after the week or two break he had from the cave. He ignored any feelings he got from putting on the suit, and directly ignored the sheet-covered structure tucked away at the back, instead focusing completely on the mission. He may have taken a few months of break, but crime hadn't.

He would use his tangled feelings to fuel him through the nights. Batman was born from the grief of losing his parents, and Batman would be fuelled by the fresh and raw grief of losing his son.

Of the fact that it was by his own hand that his boy lost his life.

With a growl, Batman jumped into the Batmobile and sped off into Gotham's filthy, crime infested streets.

Batman's first night back on duty had him finding criminals by the hour, and showing no mercy. Gangs were shattered, burglars were beaten up, muggers were crippled. Even petty thieves were spared no punches that night, an outlet for the Bat's unstoppable pain-driven fury. He dived into every fight without care or caution; he never mattered. The only reason he had ever had to keep himself safe was his little bird, and that reason didn't exist anymore. The Bat was alone, and the Bat was driven by a mix of grief and anger so tangled up and raw it clouded his thinking.

His first night back out lasted the entire night, from when it got dark to the crack of dawn the next day. He returned to the cave with a sizeable collection of injuries, Alfred faithfully waiting to patch him up. The cave remained silent as he did so, and Bruce went up to bed, glancing once at the sheet in the corner.

The news the next day told of Batman's recklessness after returning from a conspicuous absence. The news reporter noticed the absence of Robin, as Robin seemed to be what wound in the Bat's temper most of the time; after that, Bruce turned off the news.

The next night was a repeat of the first night, though he held back even less. When a random thug asked after Robin, he got a free ticket to Gotham General Hospital.

It didn't really make Bruce feel better, but it distracted him somewhat from the empty air at his side. Any distraction was a welcome one.

* * *

_The second Bruce was there, he knew he was there again. With the Team, with Robin. Robin, Robin, Robin. This time, they stood close together and eyed him warily as he approached. He got close up to Robin, who stood uncomfortably, pressed against Kid Flash and Zatanna on either side. Bruce couldn't see his eyes under the white lenses of the domino mask, but he knew Robin was averting them. He just knew it._

_He stepped forward and grabbed a hold of his son's shoulders, shaking. They felt like nothing under his hands. The Team shared worried glances between each other, and Robin made what might have been a distressed sound if sound from anything but himself existed wherever this was._

_"You have to wake up!" Bruce demanded angrily, staring right into the white of the domino mask. Robin flinched slightly, and Bruce's heart broke. "When I wake up, you'd better wake up too! That's an order, Robin!"_

_Robin turned his head away from Bruce, and Bruce stepped back, slightly hurt. But he couldn't blame him, really. Who would want to look at a horrible monster like him, who murdered his own child?_

_Without looking at Bruce, Robin raised his arm up to salute in acknowledgement of the order. _

Bruce woke up with a crushing guilt filling his chest. He sat and wallowed in it for a bit, knowing he deserved it.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

The first Arkham breakout since the night on the Watchtower was a night that nobody in their right minds would want to be out on. News travelled fast, and Batman's entire rogue gallery had heard that Robin hadn't been seen for months. Some rogues ignored this for the moment, instead choosing to hide out and bide their time, like Poison Ivy and Penguin. Others thought this might just be the best fresh wound to poke to rile up the Bat, and struck soon after they had broken out.

Scarecrow was one of these, and Bruce was occupying his time trying to capture him before he set off enough fear gas to douse the entire city. Usually the Joker would be a higher priority, but Scarecrow was striking now, and he didn't know where the Joker was. So, Scarecrow it was, for now.

Batman burst into the warehouse he had tracked Scarecrow to, quickly diving out of the way of some shots that came at him and tossing a smoke bomb. Under the concealment this provided, Batman took out the cronies quickly but not so efficiently, bashing into them brutally and throwing them into each other and out of the way, lacking his usual finesse. He didn't look back as he kicked open the lab door, fixing a rebreather to his mouth as he did so.

Scarecrow was there, halfway through a back doorway, cackling against the wall, a group of hostages tied up and terrified in the corner.

"Oh, hello, Batman!" He greeted wickedly, waggling his fingers toward the doorway. "You just caught me as I was testing my new concoction! Want to try it out?"

Batman didn't say anything, only began approaching menacingly. Scarecrow cackled again.

"Alright then," he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a controller of some sort.

"It's me or them, Batman," He gestured to the hostages. "And we both know you choose them, every time."

He laughed one more time before pressing the button on the controller and slipping out the door. Batman stared after him, before silently stalking over to the corner and beginning to untie the hostages. As fear gas started to seep through the air-vents, Batman passed out the rebreathers he kept in his utility belt for occasions such as this.

...Figured. He was one short.

At the terrified look on a hostage's face as he eyed the noxious gas, Batman removed the rebreather from his own mouth and gave it to him. The man shot him a thankful look. Batman just felt his disgust flare up again at this entire situation. Only someone as insane as Scarecrow would do this over and over and never get tired of it.

He finished untying the hostages, and managed to guide them out and through the warehouse before he leaped through the door Scarecrow had exited out of, already going through places in his mind where the madman would probably go. He fumbled in his belt and pulled out the fear gas antidote he always carried with him, injecting it in his arm. Though, Scarecrow had said that this was a new strain, so... well, he wasn't sure it would work.

It wasn't long before he found Scarecrow, and a fight quickly commenced. The gas didn't seem to be taking any effect, so maybe the antidote _had_ worked...

Scarecrow cackled as Batman threw a heavy punch at him, dodging sloppily but not quite all the way. He kept laughing, laughing, laughing, laughing laughing laughinglaughing it wasn't funny. He didn't really know what he did, but his vision went red and the next thing he knew, Scarecrow was in a chokehold in his hands. He wasn't laughing anymore.

Batman tightened his grip, and let out a feral growl, before raising his fist threateningly. Scarecrow made a choking noise, scrabbling desperately as Batman's fist descended. He hit hard and Scarecrow's face snapped back, blood flying. He drew back again and came on harder, hitting again and again and again until Scarecrow's face was nothing but a bloody mess.

"Hh-Heh..." Scarecrow wheezed as Batman raised his fist to hit again. "l-like myh new concoctionnn-?" He was interrupted by another punch to his nose, a crack becoming audible as the fist hit. "Ii-it dd-doeshn't realleyh p-play on tradishhhhional fearsh, the t-t-typeh that make you see m-monsters and all that classic stuff-" He was hit again, and this time thrust his head around to spit out a bloody tooth. "IiiItt-t d-digs deeperh, findsh what you _r_-_really _fear-" Batman raised his hand, snarling in pure fury. Scarecrow stared at him through blackened and bloodied eyes.

"I-Ih wondehr w-w-what _you _shee, oh ggreat detectiveh?"

Batman grabbed Scarecrow's head and slammed it against the wall several times, knocking him out completely.

He stood there for a moment, a new sound filling his ears in the silence of the aftermath.

Small whimpers filled the air, and Batman instinctively turned, used to nearby children as common witnesses for his crusades.

He turned, and masked white lenses met cobalt blue.

Dick was there, of course he was. Batman's mind went fuzzy. Dick was cowering against the far wall, staring right at him. Batman's rational thought went sluggish. _It was his boy, he was there, he could hug him again and breath his scent and just hold him, just hold him and never ever let go-_

Something was strange, though. He stared at his son, taking everything in. Civilian clothes, just Dick Grayson, no barrier of Robin between them. Hair was the right length, eyes were the right colour...

It hit him, then. As he observed the tiny, irrationally tiny, form of his son, it became obvious.

Dick was shaking in fear, his eyes and face masked with pure, unhidden terror. He let out another whimper, this one sounding particularly pathetic, and flinched when Batman gently took a small step forward. Dick's petrified blue eyes bore straight into him, cutting directly to his soul.

Batman had never felt like lower, more worthless scum then he did in that moment, and he knew Scarecrow's toxin had worked exactly as intended.

* * *

_He knew it immediately, as he always did, when he appeared somewhere again. The Team this time stared at him with concern; real, pure concern that he didn't deserve in all of their gazes, each of them fidgeting nervously as they looked on in worry. Kid Flash whispered something to Aqualad, still staring at Bruce, but Bruce didn't care. His eyes were drawn to Robin's awkward figure, once again, like a magnet._

_He stepped forward and grabbed a hold of his son's shoulders, shaking. They felt like nothing under his hands. Robin kept looking directly at him, frowning slightly; Bruce could just imagine the concern that filled his eyes, and it only make him more determined._

_"You have to wake up!" He practically snarled. The Team, all except Robin, collectively flinched at his hostile tone and exchanged glances before looking back at him in concern. M'gann mouthed something to him, but he couldn't hear it. Her lips moved, though._

_Are you okay?_

_He ignored her. "When I wake up, you'd better wake up too! That's an order, Robin!" He continued harshly, looking as menacing as possible. _

_Robin didn't seem to hear him, instead just tilted his head slightly, before raising his arm to salute in acknowledgement of the order. _

Bruce woke up feeling aggressive. He hoped the Team had gotten the message. It was a very important message. He blinked a bit- oh yeah, the Team was in no state to be receiving messages.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

It didn't take him long to find the Joker, after Scarecrow. The Joker liked to wait until all the other crooks were quiet or taken care of, so he could have Batman's attention all to himself.

This time he had planted bombs in several hospitals and other important buildings, like police stations and fire stations. All the places that would help the victims of his insane plots. The Joker himself was in the City Hall, with the Mayor of Gotham as a hostage, and several other hostages from the other buildings he had bombed and rigged.

Batman passed several flaming structures, firefighters already there dousing the flames. It was too dangerous to go in and disarm any more bombs, and the Joker wasn't going to wait for long if Batman didn't come quickly. One of the buildings, he noticed, was where Jim Gordon worked. He pushed the Batmobile to go faster.

It wasn't long before he reached the City Hall. Batman parked the Batmobile outside of it and leaped out, entering the building. The hall part of the City Hall was filled with various explosives and canisters of joker venom, spread around chaotically but enough so that if it were to blow up, it would destroy all nearby buildings as well as this one, and spread Joker venom for multiple blocks further. The door leading to the mayor's office was askew, and Batman could hear the tell-tale mad cackle that belonged to the Joker drifting through the crack.

He quickly but silently made his way over to the door, risking a glance through.

The Joker's back was to him, and the clown himself was in front of a group of hostages, all blindfolded. He could see several people. The mayor, two cops he recognised, a young man, a little boy, two middle-aged women, and...

And, well, a head of flaming red hair. Hair that he had seen at his house multiple times. The last hostage was a teenage girl, specifically the daughter of Jim Gordon, Barbara Gordon. He remembered. Dick had had a crush on her for a bit, until Zatanna had come into the picture, because "_Bruce, she's way older than me, why would she want to go out with a 13-year-old-"_

He stared at her and looked back to the Joker, giggling madly and playing with a gun in his hand, the safety obviously off, humming a silly tune-

God, Bruce hated guns.

Batman burst through the door, and the Joker looked up, gun still in hand. "Batsy!" He shrieked happily, opening his arms wide. Batman took the opportunity to dive-tackle his weedy and frail body, slamming him straight against the wall.

The Joker laughed even more madly, waving his gun around. "Now now Batsy, no need to be so hasty-" Batman snarled and pulled the Joker close to his face, causing the Joker to give another high-pitched cackle. "Uh uh uh," he said, waggling one of his fingers. "If you don't listen to me Batsy, something goes boom!"

Batman lowered the fist he had raised, and instead lifted the Joker up higher and slammed him against the wall. "What do you want, Joker," he growled. The Joker's grin got wider.

"Why Bats," he said, "I've been hearing rumours that you don't have a bird anymore-" Batman's grip tightened on his shirt. "I just wanted to see if they're true," he smiled. "And it looks like they are, because I don't think I see bird boy anywhere..."

Batman couldn't help it. He knew that reactions were exactly what the Joker wanted, exactly what fuelled him, but in that moment, he couldn't help it. The Joker had killed so many innocents, destroyed so much, so many buildings, so many families, so many hearts and bodies and people who didn't deserve it. He didn't really know what he was doing in that moment, but before he knew it, he had a batarang in his hand, and it was aimed to kill.

Batman always knew that after the first kill, he would be sucked in and never come out. The second kill would be easier, and then the third, and then killing would become as easy as walking, it would be so much easier just to kill the Joker to make sure he could never hurt anyone ever again...

"I'm disappointed you didn't come and tell me in person, Batsy," the Joker continued babbling, either oblivious to the batarang in Batman's hand or not caring about it at all. "I'm his uncle J after all, and I didn't even get to say bye-bye- hey, what happened to him, anyway?" Batman's fist began to tremble in the Jokers shirt. The Joker smiled up nastily at Batman's cowled face. "Did he finally get sick of you, Batsy? Did he leave you for something else? Ooh! Is he injured? Who did it, huh? How bad is it?"

The Joker's face twisted into a wicked and cruel smirk.

"Or maybe..." he continued, staring Batman right in the eye, even through his cowl. "Maybe, bird boy's flying free up with all the other little birdies in the sky?"

Batman didn't even think. The batarang thrust downwards, cutting through the air like paper, the silver edges glinting and flashing in the dim lighting of the mayor's office...

And then the Joker's face was suddenly an even more familiar one, his purple suit red, his green hair darker, his beady, beady eyes turned into white lenses...

Suddenly, he was holding Dick again, in the exact same position he was holding him before, against a wall, though the way he was trembling was a bit different...

And he looked afraid, terrified, even.

_"Dad, NO!"_

Batman dropped the batarang.

* * *

_Bruce didn't waste a second when he next appeared there. His eyes zeroed straight in on his son, standing in the middle of the line the Team always seemed to make. He rushed over, ignoring how the rest of the Team scrambled out of the way to avoid getting bowled over by his desperate dash. Robin looked at him in confusion as Bruce skidded to a halt in front of him, and grabbed his shoulders harshly and firmly. He gave one, solid shake._

_"Please son," Bruce begged. "Please wake up. When I wake up, you should wake up too. I'll do anything."_

_Robin looked at him, his gaze having turned sad. A pang of pain shot through Bruce's heart. This fuelled him however, and his demeanour turned from desperate to determined._

_"...I'll save you," he said firmly. "I'll find a way; anything is possible with the resources of the Justice League..."_

_Robin frowned at him. Bruce ignored it, muttering about all the possible ways he could resurrect someone, or time travel, or clone..._

_Robin let out a low, silent sigh._

Bruce woke up filled with determination.

This is fixable. Everything is fixable.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

After the Joker got returned to Arkham in a full-body cast, Batman wasn't seen again on the streets for a while.

This is because he was hunkered up in his cave, researching like he never had before. He could do it. He knew resurrection was possible, Ra's al Ghul's very status as alive was proof enough for that, though he would never go and use a Lazurus pit. His boy would not get buried if he had anything to say about it. Especially since it was his fault in the first place. Zatanna Zatara had just been officially buried, along with her father, and he was planning to avoid any more burials.

His list of options; resurrection, which is possible, time travel, which is possible (he knows because the Flash has done it before) and cloning, which is definitely possible. Cloning was a last resort, though. It wouldn't really be his boy, just a cheap copy.

He knew several people in the Justice League had died and come back to life before. Superman had died but was brought back by being placed in a Kryptonian Regeneration Matrix; so that's out of the question for Dick. He knew that Hal Jordan had died and come back at least once as well; He would have to look into that.

Batman appeared at the Watchtower for the first time since the necessary meetings, in order to speak with Hal Jordan. None of the other Leaguers were surprised or concerned that he had gone off the radar, and none of them were surprised or concerned that he had suddenly come back on. They silently sent him sympathetic looks as he passed by, but he was otherwise undisturbed as he swept down the hallways.

It didn't take him long to find Hal. He was sitting in the cafeteria staring at the table, empty coffee cups strewn around him, his arms trembling and his fingers tangled in his hair. He looked up when Batman silently appeared in front of him, but let out a distressed moan and went back to staring at the table, his hands pulling at his hair. Batman took this as a cue to begin.

"Green Lantern," he announced, his voice gruff and raw. "It has come to my attention that-"

"Tried it." Interrupted Hal, his voice wavering. He continued to stare at the table. "Tried it tried it tried it, but they wouldn't let me. They said it was a lantern-only thing, and if I were to break it it would be an intergalactic crime of incomprehensible proportions-"

Batman stared.

"It was the only thing I could think of to fix it, to _save _them, but it's not possible, they wouldn't let me-"

He let out a long, drawn out sigh, looking up at Batman for the first time.

"I'm so, _so _sorry Batman, but I'm not allowed, this isn't something I can decide, and it's only reserved for the most important circumstances, like, universe-destroying threat circumstances, I really tried, but I guess..."

He let out a watery, shaky laugh.

"We just have to live with it, don't we?"

Batman swept his cape, and left.

* * *

_He was getting better at not wasting time. The instant he found himself in the place the Team always seemed to be, he once again rushed straight to his son, ignoring his teammates who gave him strange looks and ducked out of the way to accommodate him. They all started silently whispering around him, but he only had eyes for the boy in front of him. Robin looked up at him, seeming a bit uncomfortable, but still curious. Or Bruce thought he looked curious, anyway._

_He grabbed Robin's shoulders and gave one, solid shake._

_"Please son," Bruce begged. "Please wake up. When I wake up, you should wake up too. I'll do anything."_

_Robin's gaze turned from more curiosity to discomfort, and he shifted in Bruce's grasp. Bruce held on tight, not willing to ever let go._

_"...I'll save you," he decided, looking at his son in what he hoped was confidence. "I'll find a way; anything is possible with the resources of the Justice League..."_

_Robin looked awkwardly away from Bruce, meeting the eyes of his Team just beyond. All of them gazed in sympathy back, but none of them moved to help._

_Robin turned to look back to Bruce, who was still looking at him in desperation._

_Robin let out a low, silent sigh._

Bruce woke up feeling a little bit guilty, and for some reason, that made him incredibly sad. He couldn't properly picture Robin's face anymore. That made him feel a bit better.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

This was not acceptable. Time travel, next on the list. He was sure Barry would help him, as his nephew's life was also on the line here.

The Flash had been hiding out just as much as Batman had been in the past few months, left to grieve in privacy after Wally West's funeral. Batman knew he wouldn't have gone farther than his own house and work though, so that's where he decided to go and search. As Bruce Wayne of course, nobody would question Bruce Wayne going to check up on the recent discoveries and progress of science laboratories linked to his business.

So, it was Bruce Wayne who came into the head researcher's office at the forensic scientist laboratory that Barry Allan worked at. He was let in immediately, of course, and accommodated quite professionally and nicely. He requested to see Barry Allen, preferably in privacy. The secretary left to fetch him. Bruce Wayne sat down in the chair comfortably.

Soon enough, the door opened slowly, and a head of limp, straw-coloured hair poked through the crack. Bruce stared at the face. Barry looked awful, his skin was pale, his eyes were sunken and black shadows outlined them. He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Barry sighed.

"What'd you want, Bruce?" He asked quietly.

Bruce looked around the room.

"Are the outside problems resolved?" Asked Bruce. His way of asking if there were any security cameras in the room.

"Not yet," sighed Barry. "Let's go to and see if we can sort that out."

They stepped out of the secretary's office, and Barry led him down a hallway and around a few corners before they came to stop in front of a supply storage room. "Here should be fine," He said, and they entered.

Bruce took a look around, and quickly deduced that there were indeed no security cameras. He turned to Barry.

"I need you to time travel," he said simply. No beating around the bush. "It's possible, that if we alter things enough, we can-"

Barry held up a hand. "Bruce," He said, and Bruce stopped. "I've thought about that. You don't think I've spent every day thinking about that?" He ran a tired hand through his hair. "I've thought of every possibility, every single thing we could change, and-" He choked off, burying his face in his hands. "There are way too many variables, it's not going to be possible to save them all-"

"That doesn't matter," said Bruce fiercely. "If we can even save one of them, that would be enough,"

Barry shook his head, his voice still muffled by his hands. "Bruce," he said. "If we even save one of them, Vandal Savage wins. Every time."

Bruce stared. Barry continued.

"The Leaguer that we incapacitate to save the kid goes back and re-infects everyone else. Every time. Without fail. Or," He said, "Vandal Savage comes back and does it himself, though he's always made an upgrade to his tech which makes it incurable-"

Something slowly dawns on Brice. "...you've tried it, haven't you?" He asks quietly. "You went back?"

Barry nods in his hands, and lets out a sob.

"I did it so many times-" he chocked, "I can't do it anymore. I can't go through that anymore." He let out a gasp. "Please, Bruce, you have to understand, I tried so many times, I-I would have done something, anything, if I could have, you have to understand-"

"I understand," said Bruce quietly. "Thank you for trying."

Barry could only nod.

"I guess if they're gone," he said, sobbing softly. "They're meant to stay gone."

* * *

_This time, Bruce didn't immediately beeline for Robin. He looked around; the Team was all staring at him in anticipation. _

_He figured he must have been quite impressionable the other times he was here. He didn't really care though; he was Batman, and the Team respected Batman. Their respect was all he needed._

_He turned to Robin again, after that thought. Losing him wasn't an option. _

_He strode forward, confident and sure, and stood tall in front of the small boy. Robin looked up at him, an unreadable expression on his masked face. _

_He grabbed Robin's shoulders and gave one, solid shake._

_"...Please son," he began, looking Robin directly in the eye. "Please wake up. When I wake up, you should wake up too. I'll do anything."_

_Robin looked at him and smiled slightly. Bruce felt his stomach flip in... was it fear, or nervousness? ...of course it wasn't, he was absolutely confident in his ability to keep his word._

_"...I'll save you," he announced firmly. Robin stared up with him in an emotion he couldn't read. "I'll find a way; anything is possible with the resources of the Justice League..."_

_Bruce let go of his firm grip on the boy's shoulders, and started pacing in front of him, muttering to himself. Robin eyed him, his slight smile slipping into a serious expression. He turned to the Team; all of them were looking at him in immense pity._

_Robin let out a low, silent sigh._

Bruce woke up teetering on the edge of desperation, panic almost, but quickly calmed himself down. He needed to be at his best, thinking his best, for the sake of his son.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

Batman sat in the Batcave at the Batcomputer, his cowl down, typing furiously at something on the screen. Behind him, Alfred stood silently, staring with sad eyes.

"...Master Bruce," He said, taking a tentative step forward. "You must stop this ridiculous behaviour. It's simply not-"

"Cadmus did it," grunted Batman, "It's not that difficult. When you take some DNA and initiate then speed up division in the cells, it's entirely possible to create an exact genetic replica, and I have blood in storage from all of the Team that I can use-"

"Master Bruce," Alfred tried again, this time a bit more firmly. "You simply cannot-"

"I can though, Alfred!" Snarled Bruce, spinning around in his chair to face the old butler. "I can! It's well within the realm of possibility, all I need is-"

"Bruce," said Alfred dangerously. Bruce started, staring at the thunderous dark look on Alfred's face. "I have been willing to let you grieve in your own manner thus far, but this..." Alfred motioned to the endless windows open on the Batcomputer, the vials and beakers that littered the lab tables, the four untouched plates of sandwiches and two untouched meals that rested haphazardly around the cave. "You cannot live like this. I will not allow it. This has gone _much_ too far."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Alfred held up a finger.

"_Hold _your tongue, master Bruce. Before you say that cloning is the solution, and that it's entirely possible, _like you've been repeating for the past three days, _you have not thought about the ethics of this _one bit._" Alfred's glare deepened, and Bruce shrank back a little bit, but still managed to look defiant. "In what world, _in what world, _would it be considered even mildly acceptable to create a _clone _of a _dead child _because you refuse to acknowledge the fact that nothing can be done?" Bruce opened his mouth again, but Alfred wasn't going to let him get a word in edgewise. "This is such appalling behaviour, I can't- I can't-" Alfred put a hand to his head and shook it. "I don't know where I went wrong," he said, running the fingers of his other hand through his thin, grey hair. "Is it because of me that you're _simply incapable _of handling grief properly? Should I have raised you differently? Am I-"

"Alfred," Bruce said softly. Alfred stopped in his mumbling, looking at Bruce directly in the eye. "...It's not your fault. I know that... well, I know that..." He looked down. "...A clone is possible. But-" he continued, before Alfred could say anything. "Even if I successfully build an exact clone," he whispered, "It wouldn't have any memories," his whisper broke off into a choke of some kind.

"Oh Bruce," Alfred whispered sadly.

The old butler took his master's shaking arm, and led him smoothly out of the massive chair to the Batcomputer and up the stairs that led back up into the mansion. He sat him down gently at the massive, empty dining table, before leaving him in order to fetch a pot of black tea he had prepared earlier.

He returned with the pot to find Bruce breathing heavily into his hands. Alfred placed it down gently, before sitting down beside him and placing a comforting had on his shoulder.

Together, the two old men grieved for what had been lost.

* * *

_Bruce didn't even bother checking his surroundings this time. He looked up slowly, coming to directly face the Team, who were all gazing at him in curiosity. He stared at them; but he couldn't feel anything as he drank in their youthful faces. He just felt... numb._

_He could physically feel the weight of gravity pulling on him as he tried to stand up straighter. He was Batman, he had to set a good example for his Team and his son..._

_He slowly moved his eyes across each of their faces. They were blurring; he couldn't picture them properly. Kid Flash had bright red hair, but what colour were his eyes again? He could remember Zatanna's determined face, but what about her smile? He knew Artemis had Asian features, but he couldn't remember exactly which parts. And the others... small details were missing- he wasn't sure if Aqualad or Miss Martian's skins were quite the right hue, and Rocket and Superboy both looked either too short or too tall..._

_He really couldn't tell._

_But of course, Robin stood in the middle, and he knew every detail was perfect. His son was perfect, as usual. His son would never be anything other than perfect._

_But looking at him didn't fill the emptiness he felt. It... it just seemed to make it worse. Bruce trudged forward, approaching the smallest boy of the group. As he got nearer, the Team turned away; leaving once again, him and Robin staring directly at one another._

_"...Please," Bruce whispered, eyeing the mask that covered his son's face. "Let me see you. When I wake up..." he trailed off, searching Robin's face again. "...I want to see your eyes. When you wake up as well."_

_Robin stared through him. Bruce felt like his very soul was being searched by those crystalline eyes, hidden behind white lenses._

_Robin hesitated for a second; then reached up a hand to the edge of his mask._

Bruce woke up filled with a hollow sort of anticipation, and found himself incredibly disappointed- but not surprised- when he saw the shadowed outline of his bedroom as his only company.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

Bruce stopped finding a reason to go out altogether; to work or as Batman. Neither held meaning to him any longer. His company would keep producing money without him, and the criminals would keep on coming even if he stopped 100 in one night; he couldn't win. What was the point?

He stayed in bed most days, just staring at the wall of his bedroom and trying to avoid thinking about anything. Dick's... Dick's official death and funeral was coming up soon. He supposed he would have to get up for that. But that wasn't for a few weeks yet, so he still had time.

He thought about all the other people who would miss Dick. His friends at school would probably be devastated... maybe some teachers too... the school would want to hold something no doubt. Bruce Wayne's son... surely he would get angry with them if they _didn't _hold something. Truly, he found he really didn't care.

He wondered what they would think if they knew it was his fault.

He thought of all the press this would receive, and all the sorrowful looks and quiet words he would get for months afterwards. He had never looked forward to something less in his entire life.

The door to his room opened, and Alfred peaked through.

"Sir," he said quietly. "You missed an important work call. I suggest you check the message and follow up as soon as you can."

Bruce grunted gruffly in response. He felt that if he tried to speak, his throat would close up and he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Alfred sighed, closed the door and left.

It was much later, when his hunger became painful, that Bruce left his bed and dragged himself out of his bedroom and downstairs to the dining room. A bowl of hot soup was waiting for him, and Alfred was reading the newspaper in the seat across from it. He looked over the brim of the paper as Bruce entered, but went right back to reading it when he sat down.

They sat in silence while Bruce took half-hearted sips of his soup.

Bruce found he couldn't bear the silence, even though he usually preferred it. It contributed to the toxic build-up of emotions he couldn't control.

"Alfred," he said, his voice hoarse with disuse. Alfred put his paper down and looked at Bruce. "If you could bring me that message now, I'll address it."

Alfred nodded, got up, folded his paper neatly and left the room. He came back not a second later holding a fancy business phone on a silver tray.

"Here you are, sir," he said, placing it to the side of the bowl of soup. Bruce pushed the soup aside and pulled the phone toward him, before pressing the playback button for messages. He had 46 unread messages, apparently. He really wasn't that big of a fan of checking his work phone, and combined with his recent neglect to work...

The message played, and Bruce was relieved to hear that it was just something he could get Lucius to take care of. He couldn't deal with anything else at the moment. He didn't feel like lifting his arm again, so he let the rest of the messages play through.

_*beep*_

_Hey Bruce, just wondering if..._

_*beep*_

_Mr Wayne, it has come to my attention that..._

_*beep*_

_I know you're not available right now, but..._

_*beep*_

_Please call back as soon as possible..._

This continued, the automated voice announcing the date, monotonous beeping and professional business voices lulling Bruce into a stupor. His mind drifted, and he found himself down a spiral of what-ifs, thinking of other universes where none of this ever happened, wallowing, wallowing, wallowing...

He was jerked quite suddenly out of his wallowing at another beep, followed by a date that was months, nearly a year ago. He had been overseas for a few weeks for Wayne enterprises and must have forgotten to check everything properly when he came back; that also meant he was near the end.

He blinked in shock when a familiar voice came unsurely out of the speaker.

_*beep*_

_...hello. Hi! How are you?_

_..._

Dick. An instant heaviness settled into his chest and he felt Alfred stiffen beside him. He found, to a horrified sort of dismay, that the voice wasn't as familiar as he had expected.

_..._

_...I miss you. Bye._

Bruce exhaled shakily.

"I miss you too," he whispered.

_*beep*_

_There are no new messages._

* * *

_Bruce kept his eyes closed. He couldn't bear to look at what he knew was exactly in front of him, for he knew it would only deepen the cavity in his chest. He turned around._

_No, he would not look._

_He truly feared making the numbness worse. That thought strayed in his head; and before he knew it, his face began to feel hot and his throat began to feel tight. He started to breathe shakily, and he found himself blinking hot moisture out of his eyes that dripped in fat drops down his face and onto the floor. He stared at the tiny dark puddles they made on the completely white floor of wherever he was._

_It seemed destiny was not on his side, as he caught a flash of colour out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help but look up. It was the Team, of course, but their colours were blurred in a soup of swirls by the sheen of wavering water over his eyes. He could make out which splotch was which despite this, and of course, Robin was in the middle, his bright reds and yellows contrasting with his black hair and the rest of the Team quite nicely. It felt less real seeing them through a wall of blur somehow, so he didn't blink it away._

_He stumbled over to them. As he got closer, their features became clearer, but they never lost that wavering and fuzzy edge that he willingly let them have._

_The small figure of Robin in the middle looked up at him, and he made a noise, a rather pathetic noise might he add, much to his shame. In front of the Team, too._

_He stared at the boy's unclear features staring up at him. His resolve broke; he blinked, and hot tears fell from his eyes and he couldn't keep it in anymore. He stepped closer and threw his arms around Robin's small frame, pulling him close. He sunk to his knees, pulling them both down to the ground. He clutched at his boy's costume desperately. He felt small arms grasp him back, and a new wave of hot despair overcame him._

_Nuzzling his face into Dick's hair, he breathed in slowly, and tightened his arms around his boy. His son was perfect, as usual. He could never be anything other than perfect. _

_"...Please," Bruce said into his son's hair, voice cracking. "Let me see you. When I wake up..." he trailed off, taking another heavy, slow breath. "...I want to see your eyes. When you wake up as well."_

_He pulled away, hoping to get his request granted. Robin looked up at him, a small smile on his face._

_He flashed a small grin at Bruce before whipping his hand up to the edge of his mask-_

Bruce woke up, his hand outstretched. It fell to his side, dead weight on the bedsheets. He felt- he felt-

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

The time had come. Today was the day that Bruce Wayne would get a hypothetical phone call from a hypothetical boarding school that his son was hypothetically going to. The preparations had been made. Dick had been removed from his frozen prison, his Robin suit stripped off and replaced with a tattered ski outfit. The suit itself now stood proudly on display in the centre of the Batcave, so it was impossible to miss from any angle. He needed to be constantly reminded of what he did- he didn't deserve ignorance. He didn't even wash it before he put it up.

He went through the procedures in his mind mechanically. Call the school. Call Selina. Arrange for an autopsy. Call the parents of Dick's friends from school. He had no doubt that at some point after doing all of that, the news would get out to the press. Then he would have to prepare to get hounded by reporters on all sides and the thousands of phone calls that would follow.

He stared at his hands.

Alfred had prepared the body to hide the signs of prolonged freezing and to make it look as if Dick had truly been killed in a ski accident, and then it was time.

Sure enough, within the day, Dick Grayson's death was all over Gotham's news sites and was a featured story on the evening headlines.

Bruce shut himself in his bedroom and had Alfred take any calls to the manor.

He had thought, that maybe the public knowing about it would make it seem more real. But, as he curled in a ball on his bed, shaking and sobbing as burning tears rolled down his face, it couldn't possibly feel more real than it did already.

Dick Grayson's funeral, 4 days later, had many more attendees than it should have. Dick's entire school was there, only some of them willingly, the rest because it was required by the school to go. Bruce Wayne was their biggest fundraiser, after all. Dozens of representatives from various press and media outlets were there, all discreetly trying to get an interview with the father. Majority of Haley's circus had even managed to come, paying their respects to the final member of the Flying Graysons. Mr Haley made a speech, telling of Dick's younger days in the circus and how the Flying Graysons was the best act they had ever had. The Principal of Gotham Academy made a speech, saying how Dick was one of the brightest students to ever have been at the school, and announcing that a new scholarship had been created in his name. Barbara Gordon, one of Dick's truest and closest friends, attempted to make a speech, but burst into tears the second she opened her mouth to start and had to be led away, sobbing, by her father. This was the second friend she had lost in the span of a year.

Bruce didn't have to pretend. As he climbed the steps leading to the podium, the reality of the situation hit him. The numbness faded from his mind, and when he reached the top, he stared at the faces around him.

Tear streaked, stony and grave expressions. Not a single smile, something never befitting of an event for Dick Grayson. Everything felt muted, and yet so profound at the same time. The fact swirled around in his head.

This was a speech for a funeral.

Bruce grasped the edges of the podium with shaking hands, opening his mouth to start his speech, but nothing came out.

* * *

_Bruce found himself staring directly at the Team. His heart twinged at the sight of them, but he settled for observation anyway. He watched them; and yet, he couldn't really notice anything distinctive. They were all as he had always seen them- teenagers that just happened to have metahuman abilities and extraordinary talent. The bravest, most heroic people he had ever known. Even better than him- though that was not hard, as he could never call himself a hero rightfully again._

_He took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. He had to get his wavering emotions under control. He couldn't help it, however, as a wave of heat crashed over him the longer he stared at them._

_He made his way over to them heavily, ignoring the fuzziness that overcame him and the way he could feel tears pricking at his eyes again. _

_He approached Robin again, of course, just as he always did. Robin turned to look at him again, just as he always did. And Bruce found himself completely letting his emotional walls collapse in a way they never really had before, symptoms of constant repression. As he always did._

_Bruce stared into the white lenses, trying not to look past them in fear of what he would not see. He might not have gotten Dick's face right, and how awful would that have been of him? What sort of father was he, anyway? One who was not willing to look at his son's face in fear of consulting the results of his own actions. _

_Wretched, wretched, wretched, unfit to have been a father. He should never have even gotten it into his head that becoming a superhero protector of Gotham was a good idea, much less take on a protégé. He should have stayed in his mansion with his butler and left the crime to the police like a good little boy. His fault. His fault._

_If he looked at Dick, he knew his face wouldn't be right. He could never be anything other than perfect. _

_"...Please," Bruce whispered hoarsely at Robin's blank lenses. "Let me see you. When I wake up..." he trailed off, feeling his throat tighten around his words. "...I want to see your eyes. When you wake up as well."_

_He didn't' see what Robin did. He did see the tips of small fingers raise to meet the shiny black edges of the mask, though-_

Bruce woke up, but he kept his eyes closed. For some reason, instead of the usual deep black that came from closed eyes, all he could see was white.

He turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

After the funeral for Dick Grayson as a civilian had concluded, the League was in the clear to hold an official ceremony in honour of the young heroes. It was to be held the weekend of the week Dick's funeral had been, in the Watchtower, which had been under construction since early in the year, adding an entire new room. The ceremony would be held in the recently completed room; a shrine to recognise and commend the young heroes who had sacrificed themselves to save the entire League.

The day of the ceremony passed like a blur for Bruce, and before he knew it, he was standing back in front of the zeta-tubes, waiting to access the Watchtower once again. The whole League was required to go by order of Superman, not that any of them would have not gone if it hadn't been. He stared at the glowing archway. The last time he was there for longer than a few minutes...

He steeled himself. No time for dwelling on the past. The present required his attention.

He stepped through the light and felt the familiar discomfort of being broken down into trillions of molecules and shot thousands of kilometres through space. He reformed, and stepped out into the fluorescent lights of the Watchtower.

By the time he arrived in the newly built area, every other Leaguer was already there, chatting with each other quietly. The gathering lacked the usual light-hearted feeling League meetings often brought, the atmosphere instead tense and heavy.

The centre of the room held eight sheet-covered structures, and Bruce felt sick looking at them.

Nobody wanted to waste time, so as soon as the last few stragglers made their way to the gathering, Superman begun.

"We are gathered here," He began, taking a shaky breath. "To honour those who were lost in the battle against Vandal Savage on New Year's Eve last year."

Somebody in the crowd let out a short sob.

"These young heroes, who were more heroic than we could ever be..."

Bruce listened numbly as Superman spoke highly, very highly, of the single most important group of teenagers to have ever existed. No matter how highly he spoke of them however, he could not do them justice.

Like Dick Grayson's funeral, the Team's ceremony (funeral) had practically every Leaguer get up to say their part. The Flash started sobbing hysterically on the podium and had to be led gently down by Wonder Woman. From what he could see, the others were not far behind. Bruce had not been asked to prepare a speech, so he suspected the others had been informed of his recent actions. He could not find it in himself to feel... anything, at that. It was like some fire he had before had just... gone. Gone out.

He felt like he was the one who was dead.

After the last speaker had finished, the silence was heavy and filled with such a deep hurt that radiated from everyone present in the room that Bruce felt choked. He watched as Superman took the podium again, and various Leaguers took spots standing behind the eight sheets.

"It is now my honour," Began Superman, "to present these eight holograms, erected in memory of those who performed better than we could have ever hoped in a situation that seemed hopeless. We, as the Justice League and as a planet, will be in their debt for as long as the universe will continue to expand- If you please," He waved at the Leaguers who had positioned themselves behind the sheets. Each of them grabbed one and pulled, and suddenly Bruce was faced with lifelike, towering personifications of his horrible, horrible mistakes.

Holograms were... holograms were memorials. Memorials were meant for the fallen, and as he stared at them, the fallen were all he could see.

Dick's grinning and confident face stared into nothingness, flickering occasionally.

"Now," continued Superman, choking a little. "Please, take part in a minute of silence to remember the fallen."

It was the worst minute of Bruce's life.

Once it was over, Superman took another deep breath.

"And finally," he said, voice wavering slightly. "I have come to the executive decision to suspend the Justice League until further notice."

* * *

_Bruce stared miserably at his fingers. His eyes felt sore and his throat ached, but he barely felt this as he looked up once again. It never stopped. _

_He was thrown for a loop as his eyes caught on the familiar formation of Young Justice. Instead of their classic hero outfits he had seen them in up until this point, all of them were dressed in civilian clothes, looking very casual, like any other group of teenage friends. They were chatting with each other happily, and didn't even seem to take notice of Bruce as he stumbled over to them._

_He looked them over, the deep emptiness in his chest that had become familiar as of late eating at him slowly. They held themselves so... confidently. Happily. They didn't know-_

_They didn't know. They didn't know how horribly unlucky they were to have been associated with such a group of horrible, despicable, unforgivable monsters like the Justice League._

_Nobody noticed when he inched even closer. He could see Dick more clearly now, but,_

_But it was wrong, his face still wasn't quite the right shape, his skin was probably too dark, or was it too light? He never had his hair styled like that unless it was for an occasion, right? Bruce gripped his head and let out a strangled sound._

_Dick looked up at that, of course. Kid Flash, (Wally at the moment) who Dick had been talking to, remained unfazed, and instead turned to join in with Artemis and Kaldur, teasingly placing his head on Artemis' shoulder._

_-wait wait, that didn't make sense either, Artemis and Wally had hated each other, right? but they quite obviously didn't despite how they acted, and he didn't know if they had gotten together yet, he never did really keep up with Dick and his friends beyond hero work-_

_Dick smiled at him. Bruce stared him in the eyes, blue as the ocean. But his face, his face, it wasn't clear. Even with a smile lighting it up, he still couldn't tell what it was lighting up, did it crinkle his eyes, how far did it stretch..._

_Bruce focused on the eyes. Those, he felt confident were accurate. He could stare into them forever._

_But- _

_But he didn't deserve to, he realised with a start. He didn't deserve to, Dick was dead and it was his fault._

_He stared into Dick's eyes. He could see them._

_But he wasn't awake._

_And neither was Dick._

_And then he was alone, the white void swallowing him whole._

* * *

A man, some would say in his early thirties, others would say early to mid-twenties because of how in-shape he looked, stood at the gates to his family's graveyard. A graveyard that held generations upon generations of this man's family. Including three of the four people he had ever truly loved, had ever called his family.

The man creaked open the gate, a bit of snow falling off the top as it moved. He trudged inside and closed it neatly behind him.

A path had been neatly cleared in the snowy ground, leading up past old and weather-worn slabs of stone that held the names of great-great-great grandparents and aunts and uncles long gone. He didn't care about those however, and spared them no glance as he trudged past.

It wasn't long before he came to a neat set of six slabs, all lined up smartly next to each other. These looked out of place in the family graveyard; they were not only six in a row, the only set with that many, but the inscriptions held a different surname to the rest in the graveyard.

_Grayson._

The man stared at them. Six graves, all in a row, six wonderful people underneath the slabs of stone who would never, ever do anything again.

It was the second of these graves the man focused on, however. He remembered a request for the spot between the first and third to be left open, for far in the future. Turns out the future wasn't so far, actually.

He remembered the coffin being so small. It had been beautiful, the most expensive but modest money could buy, something not too fancy but fitting for the most important thing in the universe. It was so small. He remembered a suit having been picked out, size child, clean and perfect and stiff with newness. He remembered the still face in the small coffin and the small suit and

And

...

The man wondered whether the worms and bugs had gotten to the small skull yet.

...

He knelt.

A bunch of flowers, lots of different types, all of bright colours, bright, bright like how his world had once been. Not anymore though.

His fault.

"Dick," Said the man.

A cold wind blew a petal off of a flower.

He wouldn't wake up.

"I never should have come near you," The man said, tone dead. "Maybe you'd be still here."

The man leant over, laying his head on the frozen ground underneath the stone, next to the flowers.

He stayed there until one side of his face was completely numb, and the other was covered in a thin film of frozen ice, tracks leading down from his eyes. His eyes were burning hot.

The rest of his body felt burning hot.

He let out a sniff.

...

* * *

**This was partially inspired by a documentary I watched on soldiers who fought in the Vietnam War. One of them recounted a recurring dream he had where his friends who had been killed in the war were lined up in front of him, and he would say, **

**"Don't worry, it's just a dream, when I wake up, you'll wake up too,"**

**I thought that was really... a mixture of things, and wanted to use it.**

**Thanks for reading :D**


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